


Living: Take 2

by Azazel_Lord_of_Shadows



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:28:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 136,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3823822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel_Lord_of_Shadows/pseuds/Azazel_Lord_of_Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if only Sebastian Morgenstern died in Edom - not his better half?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

His skin felt as if it had been flayed off with a heated metal whip, his blood flowing just enough to keep him alive, the liquid bubbling in his veins as if he were being cooked. If steam had been rising from his body, it wouldn't have surprised him at all. The light filtered through his closed eyelids scalded the pupils underneath, but refused to twitch. He knew he had to keep still. Perfectly motionless. Absolutely statuesque, without moving a single muscle. 

He knew it was his only chance. 

He would not be able to rely on the mercy of the others. 

He wasn't sure he deserved it, even if they offered it. 

After everything that had happened, he wasn't sure they would even offer it - and then there was his own guilt. 

An overwhelming force that was like the pull of black hole dragging him down.

There was a train of thought that screamed at him that it wasn't his fault. In all honestly, if anyone really thought about it objectively about it, all the responsibility was borne by someone who was no longer alive. He'd had very little choice in the matter; no choice whatsoever, in the truth was told He'd never stood a chance to anything that what he had been created to be.

But that was irrelevant now. Completely irrelevant. No-one but him, and the most open minded, forgiving of people would ever see it that way, and even they would be hard pushed to accept that point of view. Furthermore, they were the kind of people that the Clave scorned, and beat down with harsh words, preferring exacting and merciless punishments to reason at the best of times, and at the worst-

Well, they'd humiliate their enemies, before they let the axe fall. And when it fell, it fell like a star. Like Lucifer himself, tumbling down to strike the earth with all the subtlety of a cataclysm, causing devastation where it fell. 

The people around him didn't trust him. They probably never would, despite what had happened, or did happen. Most of them had no reason to, and hated him with an intensity that exceed that of the loathing he had felt for them but a short while ago. It was an insurmountable hurdle that he might try to climb someday, if he lost the will to live. But today was certainly not going to be that day. Under no circumstances, whatsoever.

The odd mixture of feelings that coursed through his body overwhelmed him, nearly choking him as they pounded relentlessly on him, wanting him to finally acknowledge them, imploring him to know them as they had wanted to know him for so long; snarling, ravenous beasts that tried to destabilise the equilibrium that had been drummed into him through the harshest and most terrible of lessons. Things that he would never, ever forget as long as he lived. But he needed them now.

Seeing these memories was more strange than watching a film. They were him - and yet they were not him at all. The contradiction was jarring, to say in the least, and he had to make an inhumanly supreme effort to not sit up and simply scream with... what?

Rage? Agony? About how life so unfair that even an bias, corrupt judge would probably sympathise with him for all of twenty seconds before sending him plummeting into the depths of the hell? Despair that same problem that had caused his downfall- well, actually his transformation/salvation and had plagued him for his entire life was going to continue to haunt him even if he somehow managed to keep it together long enough to live?

But he remained still. Completely immobile. 

Letting the tears from someone who he wanted to reassure fall on his face, without allowing himself to even twitch slightly. The other person knelt by her, hands on her shoulder, comforting her, something that he had never done to anyone. He'd never known how, and never been taught how to. It was something that he had never experienced. 

Comfort. Kindness.

He'd never expected to experience it for himself. 

But instead he was lying here in her lap, as she stroked his hair, doing his level best not to react in anyway. With all the emotions writhing around inside him, it was so difficult. Especially when this new one, something that he had never experienced before was dancing around inside of his very soul, ranging from a twinkling melody, to the pounding bass that dominated electronic music scene in mere seconds, swinging back and forth like Newton's cradle, ebbing and flowing like the tide - if the changing of the levels of sea was condensed in a few seconds.

Fear.

He always seen it on other people's faces. Something that manifested itself in different ways. From the almost comical expressions to the waterfalls of tears. The screaming open mouths that seemed to be the gateway to the Underworld itself. The shock that rendered the most capable frozen, and completely unable to move an inch.

He'd usually been the reason that they looked the way they did. It was an intricate part of the charms that he had been previously known for. His very name struck dread into the hearts of anyone who had heard it, his reputation more than enough to send a chill down somebody's spine. 

But now the boot was on the other foot. 

He was frightened. How frightened, he didn't know. There was nothing to compare it to. Fear had never been a part of him; he had been completely incapable of it. One lesson that did not have to be drummed into him. Heights. No problem. Demons. No problem. Fighting. No problem. Beatings. He didn't like them, but he didn't fear them either. 

He felt his heart wanting to pound, his body wanting to sweat, to grab onto something solid and hold on for dear life in the storm that was in his mind. He didn't think the situation could get anymore dicey than it already was. His limit had been reached. All of his training, all of his acting skills were in play here.

But as usual, there was always something to up the ante.

He heard the words spoken, the reverse, bastard version of the Lord's Prayer, and felt the presence arrive. The illusion of light, hiding a endless spring of darkness. 

Ah, this was interesting. It was possible to feel even more fear. 

He guessed this new feeling was classified under the moniker of 'terrified'. 

He heard the Shadowhunters and other beings arguing with him. The shadowy being, the ruler here that had once shone as one of brightest stars in the known universe, before he fell; well, plummeted into the depths of darkness where he resided these days. He wondered if the fallen angel was going to reveal what was going on. This being was one of two beings that could twist this dimension in whatever they saw fit. There was no way that he could possibility not know that he was faking being dead.

Or maybe he just didn't care. There was neither animosity or love between them, and Asmodeus had no reason to reveal him to the Children of Raziel that amused him so much. 

"Would you like a demonstration?" The voice was smooth and sensual, as if he was about to break into song, carrying no hint of the darkness that permeated the very core of the being that possessed it. 

And then he felt his body moving, transported across the dimensions so smoothly that it barely felt like he was moving. 

The landing was not so soft. He landed hard, fighting the urge to respond as any normal person would, allowing himself to flop onto the floor. There was a momentary pause, and then Jocelyn let go of him gently, lowering him to the floor, as he heard the screams as people recognised him, scurrying away from him.

"It's alright!" Jocelyn yelled. "He's dead."

A silence, for but a moment, before a cheer went up from the Nephilim, the sight of their greatest enemy vanquished a truly rousing spectacle for them, knowing that the war was truly over for the moment. 

For once, he was glad of predecessor's reputation - no-one seemed very keen to approach him, and Jocelyn - no, his mother could not be seen to be making a scene about the child she had lost from before he was born. No-one would understand, and more importantly, no-one would want to. 

But it was inevitable that someone was going to touch him soon enough. Someone who wasn't as grief stricken as Jocelyn, who had only held his head, and not the rest of him. Someone who would realise that he was playing dead.

His heart nearly stopped at the thought. Suddenly, being stuck in Edom with Asmodeus didn't seem like such a bad fate. Not compared to what the Angel's children would do to him if they realised he was alive. 

Damn. Damn. Damn. This was all going wrong, so fast. What was he going to do when there was absolutely nothing he could do? Without that part of him, he wasn't sure if he had retained the additional powers he had always taken for granted. And without them, he was royally screwed. But even with them, he wasn't sure that he could escape relatively unscathed. 

But it didn't look like he was going to get a chance to.

"So are we going to do with body?" a loud voice cut across the hubbub that filled the hall.

"He cannot lie with our dead," Jia Penhallow announced. He knew that voice. "That would be dishonourable to them. He can lie with the bodies of his allies and the Endarkened. Separately, I might add. We do not want him returning."

"But who's going to take him there?" another voice said, the disgust and hatred clear within it. "I refuse to touch that traitor. He is no Nephilim. He's not even human."

A mumbling chorus agreed with the speaker, all of them making their complaints known, refusing to touch the body at all. 

But that wasn't going to last forever. Everything was going to blow up in a minute - but in all honesty he wasn't even sure he'd be able to do anything. His body was still screaming in pain from the abuse that it just suffered but a few minutes ago.

A calm, cool voice cut through the noise, powerful and piercing.

"I will take him."

Mumbles of "Who's he?" and other curious remarks, some not so polite drifted around the hall as the man stepped forward, his footsteps barely making a noise as he seemingly drifted across the ground, as if he were literally walking in the air. 

He heard Jocelyn stopped him for a minute, and speak to him in low undertones for a moment, before his approach continued. 

"What is there to fear from one who no longer lives?" he said, his British accent sharp in his ears.

This was it. 

This was the part where he died. 

And he couldn't even be bother to move. 

It was over. Whatever spark of- whatever he had been feeling faded away as the hands touched him.

He waited for the blade to slam through his body, or for the man to announce that he was still alive. 

He almost exhaled with relief and shock as the man lifted him up, gently, caringly, as if he were actually human. He heard the snarls and low growls as the he was raised into the air, the swirl of cloaks as Shadowhunters moved out of his path as the man with the British accent strolled through them, both steady and swift at the same time, gliding with elegance that he had been told he possessed. 

The open air slapped his face, ruffling his hair as lolled in the man's arms as he walked towards where the enemy dead were being gathered. He lay there wondering why exactly this man was not saying he was alive. Could it be that he didn't know? He was using that trick that made his heartbeat just enough to get the blood around his body - and with what happened to him, it wasn't very difficult to pull off.

But this was a Shadowhunter. 

Maybe he'd just gotten lucky. 

And then the man's steps quickened, the pace picking up. Within moments, they had entered a structure, and he got confused as he turned corners and went down slightly, only to go up again a few moments later.

Then he was place atop a hard surface, cool and smooth underneath him.

"Open your eyes."

The voice sounded kind, but there was steel edge to it that indicated that this was not someone who was to be disobeyed. 

But he couldn't. Playing dead was his only-

"If you do not open your eyes, I will have to assume that you are still the way that the Shadowhunters think you are. And I will kill you myself."

Did he risk it? Did he dare? 

"Open your eyes."

There was finality in the tone, a resignation that indicated that he was going to have to comply.

Fists clenched by his sides, he allowed his eyes to open. 

Even the dim witchlight was hard to see in, blinding him, his sensitivity dialled up to as high as it could possibly go. Forcing is eyes to remain open was more difficult than he had first thought, but he did it, letting the tears run down his face as his vision cleared, his eyes adjusting to the light, as his pupils contracted. His vision cleared, and focused to see a high ceiling, framing a face that looked down at him. 

The hair was black with single streak of grey in it, the face extraordinarily handsome and angular, the eyes slightly curved, embodying both the fragility of porcelain and robustness of titanium. Dark brown eyes flecked with gold stared back at him, assessing him coolly, with the expression of one who has both seen and experienced a lot in life, unblinking and pinning.

"You're not Sebastian."

He didn't know if he could speak, but his mouth moved without him even realising it, his voice croaking out of him, as if there was a month's worth of sawdust from a sawmill down his throat, after his vocal cords had scrubbed with sandpaper.

"No, I'm not. I'm... Jonathon. I think."


	2. Chatting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon has his first chat.

The face continued to stare down at him. 

"I was told your eyes were black. Blacker than an crow's feathers, and more fathomless than the depths of the sea. The Marina Trench to be exact. But now they're green. An exquisite green, if I do say so myself."

Jonathon didn't know what to say. Suddenly, his throat felt even drier than it had a moment ago. He was completely at this man's mercy. On, the upside, he hadn't condemned him yet. He dared to think that he had a kind face.

But, whomever he was, there was a edge to gaze, a solidity about him that let him know that he would kill him in a instant if he thought he was getting out of line. 

"May I..." He choked up, his throat dry. "Wat-" he managed to get out before coughing wracked his body, as if someone was punching him repeatedly in the diaphragm, the motion of his movements sending ripples of pain up and down his abused body. He managed to cover his mouth just in time. 

Heavenly fire was no joke. He'd be the first to admit that.

The face retracted, and he heard a tap running a few moments later. A hand held his shoulder drawing him upward, he did not resist as the arm moved behind him, helping him to sit up straight, and get a look at his surroundings. 

He was in an ornate, slightly ostentatious kitchen, the worktops made of Baltic brown granite, lit by strategically placed witchlight lamps that made the surface seem as if it was moving, a flickering, wavelike pattern that reminded him of the way the wind whipped the desert sand into patterns that no man could replicate, no matter how hard they tried. The rest of the kitchen was constructed out of what appeared to be medium brown walnut wood, golden handles gleaming all over the kitchen, the oven a black, heavy box that was also fitted with gold.

He looked down, and saw the panels of wood on the floor matched the table he lay on. Deep grooves of spiralling patterns were carved into its surface, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw there were runes cleverly inserted into them, worked into the design of the beautiful piece of furniture.

He also noted where the knife block was. Their hands were also gold, winking at him in the lamplight as he tore his gaze away from them, fighting every instinct of his to leap over there and grab one so that he could actually defend himself.

He doubted he'd make it that far.

The man standing next to him was tall, only a shade shorter than him, and wiry. An aura of careful composed control surrounded him, an air of attentiveness hidden beneath a carefully control nonchalance that made him seen harmless. Even the weaponry that gleamed by his sides looked innocuous, even though the bloodstains on the blades told a completely different story. 

He passed him a glass of water; Jonathon took it gratefully, and drank it.

Hold on. Grateful? 

That was a new one. Gratefulness. Another in the long line of emotions that he'd heard about but never experienced. 

He sipped his water, knowing that gulping it down would do nothing to quench his thirst, and looked at his... well, he wasn't his saviour yet. For the moment, at least.

"So, you're Jonathon?"

"Yes... sir. I think I am.

"No need for sir." The man's gaze was piercing, his brown eyes seemingly searching for something in his eyes - no surprise there. Wouldn't anyone want to be sure that they hadn't just request a wolf in sheep's clothing? And in this case, the wolf was more akin to a hellhound rather than anything else.

"You were smote by Heavenly Fire?"

"Well, my sis-" He faltered on the word. She did not see him as her brother. After all he'd done, did he even have right to call her that?

"Well, Clary stabbed me with Heosphoros - where she had trapped the Heavenly Fire that she had taken from Jace."

"That doesn't explain why you eyes are green. And why you are not trying to attack me at this very moment in time. Or at least resisting."

Jonathon looked down, taking another sip of water. 

"The Heavenly Fire burnt all the demon blood out of me. All of Lilith's blood. Everything that made me Sebastian."

"Really?"

The man's voice had turned hard. He really didn't want to look up. But he did - and met the gaze that made him want to crawl under the table. 

"Yes- I no longer have the demon's blood-"

"You say everything that made you Sebastian?"

Jonathon was confused. What did he mean? Surely... "I'm not Sebastian-"

"No. Certainly not. From what I've heard and seen, Sebastian would've killed me by now, or at least tried to. But was it solely the demon's blood that made Sebastian the way he was?"

"Of course-" But then he bit off his response. The demon's blood might have been coursing through his veins. It might have poisoned his mind beyond reasoning, and turned him into a monster, but in the end the demon blood alone was not enough to make someone the way he had been. 

From his upbringing. The way that his father punished him for absolutely nothing. Nothing that had made sense to him as a child anyway. The way he had never approved of him, no matter how much he wanted him to. There was always the shadow of disappointment over his face as he looked at him, as if he had somehow failed. 

From jealousy. The jealousy that he had felt when he had realised that there was another boy. Another son. One that Valentine had loved more than he loved him. One he cared about more. He might have been the one that Valentine had kept, but he had not been the one he truly had wanted. 

From his loneliness. The overwhelming loneliness that not even his demonic counterpart had been able to transcend. The isolation that had been imposed on him by his circumstances and now continued to haunt him, even after they had changed.

He knew in his heart that whether had been Jonathon or Sebastian, he would've still felt the same way. The difference was Sebastian was part demon. He prescribed to the schools of expressing yourself through violence, and especially to one that misery loves company.

He wasn't sure how Jonathon would have acted in his situation.

"I see from your face you know the answer. Sebastian may have been created from the demon blood, but his motivations are something that both you and him shared, whatever they are. I say because I am not sure whether you are doomed to the follow down the same part as he did."

A wave of rage raced over him. How could he even think that he would be anything like Sebastian? 

"I'm not Sebastian! I'm not evil! I have nothing off that in me anymore! He was crazy and destructive, hateful and rage fuelled. Only a demon could do-"

"Was your father a demon?"

The implication hit him like a freight train. His father had no demon blood in him. He never had. He would've never touched the stuff even if he had been promised to be ruler of new nation of Shadowhunters, and granted the power of an angel to boot. 

And yet Valentine Morgenstern had been more of monster than Sebastian had. Driven by a insane jealousy and a lust for power, a intense insatiable desire to see the world bend to his will, tinged with the scorn for those he regarded beneath him, abandoned those who loved him, twisting whomever he could to his selfish whims, killing or discarding them when he had no further use for them.

And that was what he did to his friends. 

He had tortured and poisoned his own son to realise his goals. His back would forever bear the scars from the demon metal whip. And Clary, Jocelyn and Jace, along with hundreds of others, had suffered at his hands. It was not an excuse or a disclaimer - Sebastian had committed heinous acts as well.

But he had learned from the best. A man who had no teacher or demon blood in him.

"Was your father a demon?"

The words came out as a whisper as he lowered his head. "In flesh, no. But in spirit..."

He felt the strong fingers grasp his chin, and force his head upwards, to look into the brown eyes that stared at him.

"You are not Sebastian. Sebastian was demonic. He was a child of Lilith, naturally inclined to wrong doing. But one does not need to be demonic to be evil. The Nephilim can be just a cruel as demons or humans." 

"Jonathon, you still harbour the same feelings as Sebastian. You can still be Sebastian. You do not need demon blood to do that. Or you could go and ask your mother for another infusion. I am sure she would happily oblige."

"Why would I do that?" he nearly yelled, his hand tightening around the glass, just managing to keep himself under control. "Why would I want to go back to being that? He was evil. He was cruel! He was-"

"He was you but a few minutes ago."

Jonathon clamped down on his tirade, as the words slammed into him. 

"You were Sebastian until a few minutes ago. The only reason I'm not attacking you know is because I know what Heavenly Fire does when it cleanses the body. All impurities are burnt out. But you still have the potential to be him again."

For the first time, the thought crossed his mind, fully conceptualised. He could be Sebastian again. 

Sebastian was somebody. Not the nobody who was in this body now.

He still had an ally in the Seelie Court, and demons that would serve him. Lilith, despite what had happened in the Edom, would be glad to have her Shadowhunter child back in her hands once more. And even if the Clave knew he was still alive, there would be nothing they could do to find him. With his demon powers renewed, and the magic his father had taught him, he would be able to avoid detection and capture. He could rebuild his army, and think up of a new plan to destroy the Clave once and for all. He could have servants, power, riches-

But would that change anything? Would it change the way he felt? Would returning to his former self solve anything at all?

"I don't want to be him," he mumbled , eyes downcast once more. 

"What did you say?" 

"I don't want to be him. I want to be me."

"But who are you? Your name is Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern, but names are but the smallest part of who we are. Who are you?"

"I-" He stumbled over the words once more, more unsure of himself then he'd even been before. He was a newborn in the body of adult. He knew so much about everything; languages, strategies, weaponry, magic, geography, history, psychology... but he knew nothing of himself. He had only been born a few minutes ago. Everything he knew, and practically all of his memories were that of someone else. He'd been alive for less than an hour. 

"I don't know. I don't know. I just don't want to be... him."

"Look me in the eyes and say that."

His eyes flickered upward, and he stared into the brown gaze. Somehow, the normal colour made his gaze even more arresting than if he'd had any other colour.

"I don't want to be Sebastian Morgenstern. Ever again."

The man's gaze arrested him. He might have looked the same age as him, but there was no mistaking this Shadowhunter for a child. His eyes spoke of time, deep pools of wisdom that he could not fathom. 

"I believe you."

Jonathon started for a moment, surprised by what he was hearing.

"Wha- What? Sorry, pardon?"

"I believe you. I have spent years divining truth from falsehood. You appear to be telling the truth. For which I am grateful. Enough blood has been spilt tonight."

"On my orders," Jonathon said bitterly. 

"On Sebastian's orders." The man sounded firm. "As we have established, you do not want to be him. In fact, you are not him. In terms of body, memories, appearance and knowledge, you are him. However, your personality, your ideology... those are yet to be formed. You have the potential to be someone completely different."

"I suppose so."

The man regarded him with interest. 

"So what do you want to do?"

The question caught him off guard. What did he want to do?

He had a choice? 

The idea was rather novel to him. All his life, he'd either danced to his father's tune, or been enslaved by the call of the demon that pulsed through his veins. He'd never just been him.

What did he want?

"I... want to live." The words sprang forth from his mouth, his soul bared within an instant. "The Clave will never accept me. My family will reject me, and even if they don't they'll never trust me. I have no friends to take me in an enemies all over the world. I doubt anyone of them will want to understand what happened."

"But I want to live. I want to experience life. I want to be somebody. To become somebody. To just be... me. But I know that's not going to be easy."

"At least you understand the predicament that you're in. The Clave cannot know that you live; no Shadowhunter must know that you live. In fact, minimal contact with anything supernatural is well advised. Everything gets back to the Nephilim somehow."

"But what am I going to do? I don't know much about mundane life. I've been a Shadowhunter for my entire life. It's all I know."

"To survive, we must sometimes let go of what we know, and discover something new." Was that wistfulness he detected in the man's voice? He didn't know. Sebastian hadn't really paid attention to the way anyone said anything. Unless they were screaming. That had made him quite happy.

"You will have to learn fast, but I do not believe that will be a problem for you, if you try. Be aware that your past will seek to catch up to you, and that the forces that you once allied yourself with may now be set against you. Remember that the Clave has a long reach, and an even longer memory."

He still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "I'm sorry, I just have to be clear. You're going to let me go? You're going to let me... go free?"

"If you are not Sebastian, and you have no intention of being him again, then I see no reason to keep you here, or turn you over so that you may be punished for crimes that you did not commit."

"But where am I going to live? What am I going to-"

"That is something that you will have to decide yourself. I cannot tell you what path you should follow - it isn't my place to. You're an intelligent, informed young man. You'll work it out soon enough."

Jonathon couldn't help laughing. Another first. A genuine laugh. Not the twisted maniacal version that had been Sebastian's. It was his own. Even though his body ached, with every and he felt like he was going to faint In spite of all the uncertainty and destruction, his confusion and fear, he still felt the urge to do so bubbling out of him.

"You're not much older than me."

The smile that was returned to him was timeless.

"Looks can be very, very deceiving."


	3. Bye Bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions, decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to go through highs and lows - but we'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading.

They emerged from the house, Jonathon now robed in a black, hooded cloak, perfect for disguising his unique appearance. The platinum blond hair, the tall, slender, wiry figure. His green eyes. His intriguing new eyes. He had seen them in a mirror in the house. 

He hadn't wanted to look, fearing in spite of what he knew that he would see the black eyes of Sebastian staring back at him, twisting his mouth into a wicked grin as he prepared his next scheme.

Instead, green stared back at him; beautiful green that sparkled in the light, nothing like the poisonous wickedness that he remembered seeing for so many years.

The streets were quieter now, the dead now mostly removed, but there were a few Nephilim out, most of them simply involved in removing the bodies. 

He stopped as the man knelt smoothly by one of the many faerie knights that lay dead, the enemy of the Nephilim seemingly slain by an clean cut to the neck. He had been looking at all of them as he strolled by, and had finally stopped at this one. His blond hair was long, his wide blue eyes staring. 

"I heard that you know magic, Jonathon."

The question caught him off guard. "I know some. But it's dark magic-"

"It is of no consequence at this point. If you are to survive, there needs to be a body for the Clave to burn. Can you make this cadaver look like you? It must be powerful glamour - and adding averting and possibly repulsion spells as to ensure no-one looks to closer look will be beneficial as well. I have some experience with magic, but certainly not as much as you. There must be a convincing body for the Clave to burn."

Draping over it a cloth he had taken from the house and rising in what seemed to be one continuous movement, he moved off towards where the enemy dead were being stored once more. Jonathon stumbled along behind him for moment, managing to adopt the stride all Shadowhunters and his former self had, a confident glide that allowed them to walk in the air rather than actually touch the ground.

"Pick up a body of your own. You'll be more inconspicuous that way."

Jonathon picked up a body of his own, trying not to the wince at the unseeing eyes, eyes that would be full of life and light had he not existed. He wondered if the thoughts would ever start plaguing her.

They walked down the street, approaching the house where the enemy dead were to be held. A Shadowhunter standing by the door glared suspiciously at all those passing through. He fixed Jonathon's companion with a hard stare, his mouth curving as he spoke.

"Where have you been? I heard the body of that filthy Morgenstern was coming here a while ago. What took you so long?"

"I need a rest on the way here," the man replied. "He is unusually heavy. And I did quite a lot fighting earlier on."

The man snorted. "We've been ordered to put him in a room separate from everyone else's. Something about him not remaining dead when he's supposed to."

Jonathon refrained from reacting as Sebastian's memory of the dagger that Jace had stabbed through his back rushed through his mind, the phantom injury that tingled in the on his back. 

"Well, I'm sure he's gone this time. And good riddance," his ally replied, moving past him, Jonathon following close behind. 

Diverting off slightly, he placed the body next to all the others, mentally wondering how his predecessor, or his father, had ever found a justification for destruction and death that hung in the room, over the whole city in fact. The tang of blood filled the air, his acute senses tasting and smelling the iron in the air, and the rotten smell of the dead Endarkened, as they crumbled into demon poisoned rot. 

Remembering the direction that his new ally had gone, he pulled his hood down further, and slid down the same corridor, the stealth that had been inbred into him coming in handy here, as other Shadowhunters, too concentrated on their tasks and their loss, did not notice him go.

Down the corridor he went, searching for his companion, eventually finding him waiting in a small, bare room, the stone floor grey cobbles, both cold and uninviting at the same time. 

"Close the door. We don't have much time. Obviously, they're keeping tabs on your body. They've even set up symbols on the door and room to ensure that no-one will leave once I activate it."

As Jonathon did as he asked, the man removed a circular disc from his person, and, grabbing hold of the flaxen locks, shearing them, glancing at Jonathon in occasion as he chopped the knight's hair, in the same style he kept his.

"Prepare your spells. I doubt anyone will be allowed near the body after this, and they will not trust the other supernatural races to touch it - not that they would want to after what he has done to them. Therefore, there should be no-one around to detect this deception. And with their lack of magical skills, I doubt the members of the Clave will notice. But even so, be careful with them. Detection will be fatal for you."

"Don't you mean for both of us?"

"You've been known to come back to life before. They will not suspect me in the slightest. Even if they do, for whatever reason, they'll have very little evidence to support the theory. And most of their energy will be bent towards finding you. Only if they use the Mortal Sword, but I doubt that it will come to that."

"Then why are you helping me?"

"My conscious will not let me sleep if I allow an injustice to be committed. As I said before, the Clave are not known for being merciful."

"Sed lex dura lex. The Law is hard, but it is the Law," Jonathon replied.

"Exactly. And I do not completely agree with that."

By now he had shorn off enough of the knight's hair to make him look suitably like Sebastian. 

"Give me your clothes."

Jonathon was taken aback - but for only a second. He dropped his cloak to the floor, and began to undress quickly. 

"You can wear the clothes that this faerie had on underneath his armour. Obviously, they weren't expecting too much of a fight. These do not look like the type of clothes one would typical wear under armour."

Within a minute he was dressed in the faerie's clothing, the faerie now dressed up like him, the armour discarded to one side, to be taken out when they were done.

"Are you ready?" the man said, staring at him intently. "We've already spent far too much time here."

Jonathon did not know whether he was ready or not. But he would have to be.

If he wanted to have any sort of life.

He remembered the incantations, and began them, chanting softly in Latin - and then faltering as the memories of how Sebastian had used these spells appeared before his eyes, along with painstaking way he had been forced to memorise the spells until he could repeat them verbatim.

He stumbled over the words as he became distracted, and the spell faded, seemingly crashing to the ground, shattering into a thousand invisible pieces.

"I- I-"

The man put a hand on his shoulder. "What's the first thing you want to do when you get out of here?"

That hadn't been what he had expected.

"Well? What do you want to do when you leave Alicante? When you leave the borders of Idris and return to mortal world where you will start anew?"

"I-" What did he want to do? Now that he wasn't consumed by an insatiable desire to burn the Earth, rule Edom, or kiss his sister? The last thought sent revulsion down his spine. His dark self had been seriously messed up.

But what he want to do? What did Jonathon want to do?

"I want to, heck I don't know? Eat at a restaurant? Go watch a movie? Watch TV? Something that doesn't involve murder, deceit and unhappiness?"

"Focus on that. See it in your mind. Let it still your thoughts. Magic requires focus. I know you are still in shock from all of this - but you must do this. I have done my part, and now it is time for you to do your part."

Jonathon signed, collecting himself remembering his father's lessons, and then adding this man's words into them.

He calmed himself, allowing memories of Sebastian to enter his mind. But instead of seeing them through the narrow minded, demon twisted view of his counterpart, he saw them from his perspective. He wanted to know what it was like to have a deep fried Mars Bar. He wanted to find out why everyone was so obsessed with the internet. He wanted to know why I Am Legend, Sweeney Todd, National Treasure, St Trinian's, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and Aliens vs Predator were so popular. He wanted to know why television entranced people so that they could spent hours in front of it. 

He wanted to see the fireworks at New Year.

With all those things in mind, he chanted, the Latin flowing of his tongue as if he were an actual Roman, the air in the room moving as he commanded the invisible forces that he knew so well.

Light seemed to wrap itself around the prone body on the floor as the glamour took hold, scars of Shadowhunter marks appearing on his arms, his hair seemingly lightening as it took on his unnaturally bright colour, the already handsome face becoming the twin of his own as the facade settled into place.

Jonathon stopped chanting as the spell came to an end, the magic settling and solidifying over what now appeared to be him. 

Did he really look like that? It was odd, seeing himself in the way other people saw him. He saw that he had a face that could both beautiful and menacing at the same time. 

No wonder the Seelie Queen had liked him. No wonder people feared the very sight of him. The pale skin, the platinum white hair; a shining angel's face contrasted with those dark, dark eyes. A demonic angel. Or an angelic demon. Either way, it a true meeting of heaven and hell.

How would they see him with the green eyes?

It was something that he hoped he would soon find out.

"You've done well. Can you disguise yourself?"

He blinked. "Yeah, I should be able to."

"Good." He bent down, and began to wrap the disguised fairy knight in the cloth. Jonathon bent to help him, folding the cloth around the corpse, tightening it so that it was completely sealed from the outside world, but the man waved him away.

"I'll finish this up. You get on with making yourself look inconspicuous. Oh and I'll need your ring."

"But-"

"I'll give it to you mother or sister. And this needs to be convincing. You can't be walking around with that ring. At all."

Even though it pained him to do so, for reasons he did not completely understand, he slid the ring off his finger, and dropped it into the man's hand. 

"Hurry up. We don't have much time." 

......................................................

As they left the room, the man glanced back at him with approval.

"Excellent job. I honestly wouldn't recognise you if I didn't know to look through the illusion. And even then..."

Even he was impressed. His hair now appeared to be a light soft brown and curly, the planes of his face softened, his eyes turned to watery blue. His pale skin looked slightly tanned, as if he had been out in the sun for a long while. He still kept the cloak on, and the hood partially up, walking next to man, his acting skills working overtime to maintain an air of casual indifference, while trying to adopt just a hint of the severity that came from the atmosphere of destruction that hung in the air.

"Where are we going now?" he hissed quietly.

"To the Portal."

"Won't it be heavily guarded?" 

"The Portal is well hidden - there's really no need to protect it. It's in the Gard, but I know just about everything about Alicante. It's quite out of the way - we should have no trouble getting to it. Have you decided where you want to go?"

He hadn't really. He'd been too busy trying to work out how he going to survive. His life had started about less than a hour - there hadn't been enough time to work out life plans. 

Where could he go? 

He spoke Romanian, Italian, French and a quite a few other languages as well. He could go almost anywhere in the world and find some quiet little corner to hide in. There were accounts that he could access, funds that he possessed that could make his life secure and happy.

But was that what he wanted?

He thought back to earlier. The things he wanted to do would not be possible if he lay low in some godforsaken, far flung area with less than twenty thousand people. 

On the other hand, all of the metropolises of the world had Institutes and supernatural activity. Staying hidden could be either harder or easier depending on how you looked at it. There were more cameras, more supernaturals, more Shadowhunters - more chances to be caught. A small town didn't have those problems - only town gossip, which could prove to be just as bad. Rumours had a tendency to spread, always ending up in the wrong ears - and he was quite memorable.

So, it was a big city then. Somewhere where he could blend in, and be seen as normal, even if he looked like he did now. He didn't want to have to change his appearance just to fit in. 

He just wanted to be Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern.

The boy who never had a chance to live.

The thought crept into his mind, taking root, growing and blossoming as they walked past Nephilim, a warm, golden flame in his chest. He didn't know why it was golden - it just felt it should be. Was this hope?

He thought it was. And felt good. Fragile, like a candle in the hurricane, but yet so robust, as if that little golden flame would survive no matter what.

"Is that resolution that I see on your face?"

"Yeah. I know exactly where I want to go."

......................................................................................

The Portal stood before them, hidden in a small room whose door half blended into the elegant surroundings the decorated the Gard. 

"We part here," the man said, brushing a symbol on the door, bringing the Portal to life. 

Suddenly, Jonathon felt the fear return in a rush, along with something else, something that a odd feeling into his stomach, a falling, plummeting sensation, along with a prickling of the skin all over his body. 

He was stepping into the unknown. He had no choice but to make change - he'd be dead if he didn't, but even so, the magnitude of what he was feeling stopped him dead in his tracks. 

Another new one. Nerves. Worry. Things that the calm, collected Sebastian had never felt. He'd always known what to do, and had never hesitated once. Rearranged and reorganised things, yes. Failed and been beaten back, certainly. Had hiccups and mishaps - more so than people had realised. But he'd always gone for it, headfirst, rushing in where angels feared to tread.

He wished he still had that resolve now. 

He felt his hood moving down, and turned to his companion, whose hand moved to his shoulder, his arresting gaze piercing through into his soul once more.

He didn't need to say a word. The trust and care in that gaze, considering who he had just been, and the havoc that Sebastian had wrought were overwhelming. 

Yet there was still a steel edge to the gaze, the reverberated through him, giving him strength, stilling the raging storm inside him of him, if only enough so the golden flame wouldn't be swept away in the inner turmoil he felt.

"Thank you-" he fumbled, realising that he committed a grave error. "I don't even know your name."

"I'm James."

"Thank you, James. If I don't see you again - just thank you."

James smiled at him. "Go on. You have got your whole life ahead of you. Make sure it's a good one. And don't get caught. Enough innocents have died in the wake of Valentine Morgenstern's quest for power."

The words had a finality that indicated the conversation was over. 

He looked into the gateway, and with trepidation and hope swirling within him, stepped through, allowing his mind to take him where he needed to be.

As the light faded, Jem couldn't help but note where the Portal had taken him. He'd seen so many over his lifetime, he could now tell where a Portal was going by the changing that occurred in the symbols when the person mentally commanded the gateway.

It brought a smile to his face.

He couldn't have picked a better place himself.


	4. Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon's slight feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, guys.

He emerged into the night, letting the glamour drop as the doorway closed behind him.

The noise of the city filled his ears as his hair straightened and turned back to normal, its brilliant white blond colour shining in the dim light, his blue eyes turning to the emerald green once more, the planes and angular features returning as the Portal snapped shut.

He chanted again, murmuring softly under his breath, altering the cloak this time so that it appeared to be a well tailored coat, a much easier task than altering his own appearance. 

Stepping out of the quiet side alley he had appeared in, he brushed strands of hair out of his face with careless gesture, and then an elegant flick of his head, trying to appear more confident than he felt.

He had been here before, of course. A few times with Valentine, and a few times by himself. Most recently when he had attacked the Institute here - the only one he had failed to secure, for some reason unbeknownst to him. 

London loomed above him, one of the most multicultural, vibrant cities in the world, full of hidden streets and narrow lanes, the serpentine Thames twisting through the heart of the city, its many bridges transporting hundreds from one side to the other, simply part of the scenery to the locals, and one amongst the many monuments that millions travelled from far and wide to see every year. 

He emerged into Oxford Street, allowing himself to simply take in his surroundings. Shops ran down both sides of the street, their lights still glowing through the glass, the wares all on display, inviting natives and tourists alike to come and pursue through their stock, hoping that they would find something suitable for them and walk out satisfied. Every variety of shop was represented here; clothes stores, ranging from haute culture to sportswear. HMV seemed to stare at him, and fast food stores filled in the gaps between, along with the knick knack tourism stores no-one could resist forever. 

He saw people strolling down the street even at this ridiculous time in the morning; as with most capital cities, or large metropolises in general, the city never quite got to sleep. Someone was always out in London, always awake. 

Jonathon couldn't help but smile some of the late night revellers stumbled past him, illuminated by the Christmas lights, their faces flushed as the cold nipped at them. Pink, green, blue, grey, silver, jet black... In this city, his hair colour was normal. He was tall, but in London there were loads of tall people. The capital of England might have been the most watched city in the world - but Shadowhunters had little to no interest in mortal affairs. They wouldn't be checking CCTV cameras anytime soon. 

Initially, he had through of going further north, to one of the Scandinavian countries; Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland or Denmark. In terms of his features, Nordic Europe was perfect place to hide. His eye colour was so rare that he only shared it with two percent of the world's population - most of whom were either in northern or central Europe. Add in the fact that the northern countries of Europe were known for their lighter hair colours and height, a stereotype people applied to Scandinavian natives, he would've fitted in perfectly. 

But they were quieter countries, and while they were absolutely beautiful, they were more for those who wanted a quiet life, a nice peaceful time away from hubbub that was the rest of the world.

Jonathon wanted to be part of the world, not secluded away from it. He wanted to be someone. Not somebody known or important - just someone. Him. Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern. A completely different person from Sebastian Morgenstern.

Hopefully, a better person.

James had believed he could be. He'd risked quite a lot to get him out of Alicante, believing him to be innocent. He didn't know whether he could be. But he was definitely going to try. 

But first things first. He needed somewhere to stay. That was what was most important now. 

There was another reason that he decided to stay in London rather than the other places he had considered. 

Valentine had a house here. 

A small, little thing tucked away where no-one could find it. Perfectly innocent and out of the way, with spells cast over it to preserve it and prevent people from finding it. 

But he could he live there?

He didn't have particularly good memories of that house - or any of the houses that he had lived in with Valentine. His blood had often dripped on the floor from his beatings, his sweat dripping on the floor, and being absorbed in the dirt of any grassy expanse nearby where he had trained relentlessly, his eyes blurring as he learnt languages, spells and every other subject that his father had thought necessary. 

Never once had he received a word of praise, or thanks for what he had done. 

Could he really stay there, remembering and knowing what had happened to him? Or did he want to start anew somewhere else?

He'd have to decide later. For now, he just needed somewhere to stay, somewhere for him to re-cooperate and recover. He was moving through the pain, the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins from the stress and anxiety of being so close to death draining away as his body settled itself. 

"Hey!"

He spun around to the sound of the voice, his body tensing, Shadowhunter reflexes activating, a bit slower than he was used to, but still much, much faster than any human. He had no weapons, and was half dead on his feet, but Jonathon knew he wasn't going down without a fight.

Some women stood a few feet away. A group of them, of all races and heights, all good looking, all of them happy and possibly slightly tipsy, judging from the way a couple of them were swaying. They were on the other side of the road, heading towards Soho, if his geography was still remotely accurate. They were giggling and laughing, but not obnoxiously, just people genuinely happy to out and enjoying themselves on this chilly December night.

"Where are you going? The party's not over yet!"

"Come join us - we'd love to have you along! You're gorgeous!"

"Gorgeous? He's basically an angel! Only an angel could be that good looking!"

Despite the absurdity of the situation, and how tired and beaten up he felt, he couldn't help but smile. 

"Sorry," he replied over the road. "I think I've partied enough for one night."

There were groans from the group, but they laughed it off, wishing him a good evening. 

Despite the chill, he felt a warmth rising up in him. Previously, the combination of his black eyes and his menacing or cold expression had put people off until he had gone over them himself, and practically seduced them with the darkness that flowed through his veins. 

But no-one had ever really complimented him before - or invited him anywhere. He'd never really had a chance to. Everything had been plans and preparation, death and destruction - there had been nothing else really.

He simply kept walking, strolling through the streets of London, his mind having the route committed completely to memory. Valentine had made him memorise maps of major cities, as a training exercise, and so he was able to navigate around quite a few places with no trouble at all, even if hadn't spent a lot of time there.

Jonathon continued walking, strolling along, watching the cars and night buses rumbling past as he strolled towards the station known as Angel. Valentine had always had a slightly twisted sense of humour, considering what he had done to Ithuriel. 

He turned right, walking down into the clusters of houses nearby, and turned down a street, ending up in front of house that looked like any of the others. Small and narrow with clean windows, non-descript and out of the way. 

Exactly how it was meant to be. Even to a magical eye, it would appear to be nothing special - only a skilled warlock or someone in the know would begin to see the heavy wards that surrounded it, the runes that protected it both demonic and angelic in origin, a mixture of heaven and hell that effectively gave the house a double layer of protection.

He entered through the gate, strolling confidently to the door, tracing the invisible symbols he knew to be there, murmuring whilst he did. The lock clicked open, the first layer of warding spells retreating, preparing themselves to be reset as soon as the door was opened and closed. He did so slipping in smoothly, the lock clicking behind him, the magic resealing the house. 

Jonathon moved his hand instinctively, using both hands to trace symbols to deactivate the spells that were primed to react to intruders. The hum of magic faded as he finished, the threat defanged, as he slumped down to the floor, sliding down the wall, finally able to relax, knowing that he was safe.

Safe. Something he hadn't been in a long time - as either version of himself. 

His head rested against the wall, his eyes closing, the glamour fading, his limbs suddenly completely drained of all energy, and pathetically weak. But he didn't care. 

I'm going to move, he thought. I'm going to move in a minute... Just a minute...

But he never got a chance to, and fell asleep in the passageway, completely shattered. Being cleansed by heavenly fire and having to run for your life was more than enough to exhaust anyone - even the most hardy of Shadowhunters.

Fortunately for him, his aching mind was far too tired to dream.

..............................................................

He awoke completely disorientated, his mind roiling. Why was his bed so hard, why was he sitting up, where was he-

And then it all came crashing back. What had happened with what remained of his biological family and effectively the angelic twin to his demonic self, and all of their friends. The way his mother had cradled his head, and cried for him. The way James had talked to him as if he were a person, and had rescued him. The way those normal, ordinary women had accepted him, even invited him out with them.

Wow. Life.

He heaved himself from the floor, clearing his head with a shake. 

Then it really hit him. 

He was free. 

The Clave didn't know he was alive. His father was dead. Lilith probably couldn't sense him without the demon blood. He highly doubted the faeries knew he was alive. There was nobody telling him what to do, no external forces pulling on him, dragging him one way or another. 

He could do what he liked. He could live. 

Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern. 

Free at last.

A sound interrupted his flowing thoughts; a familiar, gurgling sound.

He hadn't eaten in while, and coming back from the brink of death probably required a bit more energy than one would imagine.

He should go and get something to eat. But he'd need money. Well, that wasn't going to be a problem.

He walked up the stairs, past his bedroom and the bathroom, heading towards his father's room. He had never been allowed in here previously, his absolute obedience to his father, and the discomfort of his beating enough to keep him out. But he knew that his father had cash, bank cards, passports and all the other necessities he would need stored at all of his properties. 

As well as other things. He would have to sort all of that out later though - but hopefully there wouldn't be too much of Valentine's research things here. The very memories of them had entranced Sebastian, but horrified him now. 

The door creaked open as he turned the handle, revealing the forbidden room to him. Of course he'd already been in here before - Sebastian had been more than intelligent enough not to get caught. Even when he'd been questioned, he had lied so convincingly that Valentine had not been able to find a flaw in it. Even when he brought it up a week later.

The bed was pushed up against next to the wall, neatly made with crisp sheets, everything coloured a plain, practical black. The walls were painted white, making the contrast rather sharp, and pushed up against the wall parallel with the door was a desk, neatly arranged notes and diagrams atop it, a small book placed on the left hand side, a sturdy wooden chair tucked under it. A rectangular carpet was the only decoration in the room, a simple woven thing based on the Morgenstern swords - it was black, and covered in silver stars, but it did not reach the edges of the room, revealing the faux wood floorboards underneath.

Jonathon whispered something, and the carpet shivered slightly, the symbols written in Valentine's cursive script fading away, as he disarmed the trap. Only someone who didn't know his father would have assumed that he actually wanted the carpet in the room. 

He went to the desk, opening the single drawer, slowly; and as expected all of his father's supplies sat there, no dust gathering on them, protected by the spells placed on the entire home to keep it clean. Valentine had hated dust and dirt.

Even though his father was dead and gone, his shadow was a long one, cast far and wide. The room felt uncomfortable, as if it still contained a trace of him, the remains of the one who had made him into what he was today. Heck, the whole house did, but this room in particular took things to a whole new level. Knowing this was where Valentine had slept and worked... Jonathon knew that despite what he felt about the rest of the house, this room would always be the most difficult to handle.

He might redesign. He should. Definitely. This was his house now, his world. 

Jonathon's house. Jonathon's world. It sounded good. He didn't know what he wanted to do, what he wanted to see, where he wanted to go, now that he had the money and the time to do it. 

But he would work it out. He had to. James had believed in him. So, despite of all his reservation about himself, he would try to do so as well.

With that thought, and the little golden flame in his heart, he turned, strolling off out of the room, going out to the find himself something to eat.


	5. Spoilt For Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon discovers a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, have a great day.

So many options. So much choice. So much freedom in one place. It was almost overwhelming - only almost because he was too busy getting swept up in everything that he could see to really care. It was like a child's first time in a toy store - so much to do, so much to see.

Jonathon was quietly embarrassed to be so excited about food shopping. He'd never been. Jace had gone when they had been bonded, Sebastian finding the task beneath him. Before that, Valentine had had food delivered to the house, not wanting to risk being exposed prematurely. Or when that wasn't possible, he had gone out and got it himself or sent one of his followers to get it (while they were still alive), wanting to keep Sebastian's presence under wraps as much as possible. 

This was literally his third major choice that he'd made since becoming Jonathon. The first had been to live. The second had been to stay in Valentine's house. His third?

What he wanted to eat.

He didn't know it could be so difficult. There was so much to choose from. Did he want sausages, bacon, eggs and toast? With or without beans? Beef or pork sausages? White or brown bread? Did he want a stack of toast a mile high, covered in jam or marmalade? Or melted cheese? What about white, crusty bread, spongy and soft, buttered? Croissants and pain au chocolat? Cereal looked appealing. He hadn't heard of or tried the majority of those he saw stacked on the shelves, and he'd always wondered what soya milk tasted like. 

More importantly, who said he even had to have that for breakfast? Traditions were what Sebastian had been bought up in - why should he adhere to them? Why should he have them for lunch or dinner? What else did he want to eat?

Pizza looked nice. Pepperoni, chicken, Hawaiian, vegetarian... But then he could always chose the margherita and add whatever topping he felt like. Pasta was always appealing, and although he'd never gone shopping, he did know how to cook a variety of dishes - and Italian pasta recipes were certainly one his favourite things to make. But then there was the Japanese food. Udon, sushi, sashimi... Then there was rice, and something called quinoa that he didn't know much about except in passing, but was willing to give it a go. It all sounded good.

The desserts were mental torture and murder. Everything looked so good.

The cakes, those covered in whipped cream and fruit, the ones that smothered in gooey chocolate, the insides moist and dark, layered with chocolate, white and dark chocolate shaving coating the entire thing. The delicate angel cakes, the sweet Battenberg, the uptight Victoria sponge, carrot cake, opera cake, cheesecake... The list was endless. Then there were pies, doughnuts, biscuits. The ice cream! Vanilla, mint, toffee, blue cloud, raspberry ripple - he was spoilt for choice.

Then there were the snacks. The drinks. Sandwiches. 

But eventually, his giddiness calmed itself, the efficiency that had served his counterpart so well returning in full force, almost making him laugh as he remembered that there was only a limited amount of space in the fridge, freezer and cupboards. He also had to carry everything he purchased back as well. 

So he went round the shop, deciding that a celebration was in order. A celebration of his survival. Of his freedom. Of the first day of what he hoped to be many more. He still had no idea what he was going to do - but right now, he didn't care. 

It was time to relax. Everything else would come later. 

........................................................................................

Jonathon staggered home with his purchases, eventually whispering a spell that helped him carry them, lightening the load. He had deactivated the majority of the deadly spells around the house before he had left, leaving only a few defences in place to ensure no-one and nothing unwanted came calling. 

Deactivating them once he was indoors, he set about putting everything in its rightful place, the bare cupboards suddenly stocked to the brim with the purchases. His fridge and freezer burst at the proverbial seams, packed to the corner with food; Jonathon's food. That invisible stamp that seemed to brand itself to everything in this house. It was his.

Jonathon's. And there was no-one to tell him otherwise. No one to take it away from him. 

Nobody else's tune to dance to.

He found the pots and pans in the cupboards, exactly where he had left them from the last time he had been here. Deciding that he was in the mood for it, rather than what he was supposed to be eating for breakfast, he began to prepare a feast for himself. 

Eggs fell into a bowl, swirled around with finely diced onions, salt, pepper and a dash of milk, whisked from egg yolk and egg white into a perfectly fused froth, ready to be fried when he need it to be. Strips of bacon were laid side by side with beef sausages, until the bacon was crispy at the edges, the sausages brown and piping hot, both of them riddled with the line marks from the grooves of the pan. Their sizzling complimented the similar noise coming from the pan next it, the thinly sliced mushrooms and tomatoes gently cooking in the mild heat. Jonathon put his four slices of toast in the toaster - two white, two brown, and poured the egg mixture into the final pan on the stove, watching his omelette coagulate into a solid form, the heavenly smells mixing together as the onions fried, browning in the heat.

Just before the toast finished, his omelette was done, and he placed it on a large plate, as the cooked bread popped up. He slathered them with olive oil butter, watching it melt into the grain, before he placed it atop the omelette, fitting all together to form a square, before he laid his bacon strips around the edge, placing his sausages atop the meat, before he poured the mixture of mushrooms and tomatoes atop the bread completing his creation. 

Pouring himself a massive glass of orange juice, he sat down at the kitchen table with a knife and fork, unable to stop a massive smile from crossing his entire face.

Jonathon's first breakfast. His first meal.

It was going to be a good one.

.........................................................................................

Jonathon sat at the kitchen table, leaning back into his chair, rubbing his stomach with satisfaction.

Every bite had been heavenly. Sebastian had eaten food simply because he had to. He'd never really tasted it, never appreciating the meals. He had just chewed and swallowed. It was fuel - nothing more.

This was his first time really eating. Savouring every bite, chewing it slowly, the mingling flavours and seasoning shining through. The smells and made him feel slightly unearthed, the sensations that had danced over his taste buds made him feel as if he had broken through the surface of a barrier that he had not even realised was there. The orange juice had washed it down nicely, the tangy citrus tingling on his tongue as it had sloshed down into his stomach. 

Jonathon felt as he had just found a slice of heaven - and it was simply one tiny part of what was called normal life.

So what was he going to do for the rest of the day? He could watch TV, go back to bed, go out - the possibilities were endless.

Or he could go about making this house his own. It still had the marks of Valentine all over it. The building might have been a constructed pile of bricks, concrete, mortar, glass, wood and steel, but it still screamed Valentine Morgenstern. In some respects, it was still his. 

But he was gone.

It was time to make this house Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern's. The bins outside were just waiting to be filled with all the things that he never wanted to see again. 

But first, it was time for a shower. He need to freshen up before he got the day fully underway.

.............................................................................. 

Steam obscured the entire bathroom, a grey white mist that coiled and curled through the air as if it were alive, refusing to stay still, twisting and turning through the air, only defeated when it condensed against the window of the bathroom and the tiles, the cool surfaces draining all the heat from the moisture, turning it back into a liquid form that clung to the solid surface.

But Jonathon felt energised by the shower.

Sluicing down from the shower head was a cascade of hot water, almost stinging his body, as it washed away the surface layer of blood, sweat and grime that had covered his body. A glamour and distraction spell had disguised it while he was shopping - he'd just been so hungry that he hadn't bothered to shower before he left.

In some respects, he was glad that he had left it till now. Without hunger gnawing at him, he could fully appreciate the effects of the shower. 

Jonathon didn't know bathing could feel so good. Once again, it was something Sebastian had done out of necessity, rather than actually being bothered by it - or caring about how it made him feel.

The body scrubber passed over his scarred skin, turning it red as he pressed it in, physically cutting through the layer of filth on him, turning the water dark as it flowed off his body, the bubbles a dirty brown grey colour as the drain took them away, spiralling away as it went down. Jonathon went over everywhere twice, as if the cleansing would wash away all the troubles of his life. He turned off the shower as he washed his hair, using his fingers to literally kneaded and scratch at his scalp, hoping to get everything out of it, feeling unreasonably satisfied when he turned it back on, ignoring the stinging of the shampoo in his eyes, as he watched the dirt fall out of his hair.

And then he just stood under the water for the hell of it, letting the water wash over him for a few minutes, savouring the unique commodity of having no obligations. Jonathon stepped out of the shower, dragging his towel down from the rail, taking his sweet time to dry his skin, tracing the remnants of old Rune marks with his finger. 

The mirror was completely covered in condensation, the polished surface obscured under of layer of droplets so fine that he could not even find a single gap between them, his Shadowhunter eyes straining to do so. Unbidden, his hand was raised to the glass, and Jonathon began to trace a series of letters into the solidified mist.

First, a J. Then a C. M. 

His finger paused for a moment, hesitating, and then continued the last letters forming a word that was bigger than the rest. 

Free.

Jonathon stared at the entire thing for a moment, and the smiled to himself, sweeping his hand across the words, obliterating them, and revealing his reflection. 

And he nearly jumped back from the mirror. But then he was up against it, looking deep into his own eyes, the brilliant green regal and powerful, gleaming at him.

No black. Nothing dark at all - well, except for the iris and that was meant to be that way. No darkness lurked in the corner, waiting to seduce him, waiting to drag him back into the life he had just escaped. Waiting to make him Sebastian once again.

Jonathon sighed in relief, gripping the sink, his head lowered, the pale coloured hair forming a curtain around his face. 

Relax, he told himself. Relax. The heavenly fire cleaned me out. I can't have any demon blood left in me. 

But still he wondered. 

Wondered if he would ever be free from his memories of Sebastian. Of Valentine. Of Lilith. Of all the things that he knew would flitter in and out of his memory at the slightest provocation.

He sighed again, and went to get changed.

.......................................................................................

Jonathon spent the rest of the afternoon clearing Valentine's taint out of the house.

Some of the papers and books had nothing to do with him, and were of no use to him. He tore them to shreds systematically, ripping them into tiny little pieces, tearing the pages out the tomes, and disposing of them as well - none of this could be seen by mundane eyes. And if someone that was part of that world saw him - well, there would be questions asked, and could lead back to him. 

He looked disdainfully at the crystal decanters that his father owned had owned; they bore the Morgenstern crest, stamped into the bottom of the delicate containers. Jonathon took great relish in smashing them into a bag on the floor, leaping up into air, before hurling them down at the apex of his jump, watching the crystal shatter into a ten thousand shards that barely glistened in the shadow of the bag.

Other small ornaments found themselves in the same position, dashed into the bag with devastating force, Jonathon covering his eyes when the shards flew up, a couple of them adding to the nicks and small cuts he already had. 

He didn't care. He was having too much fun. He'd heal them with an iratze later. 

On and on this went, as he collected all the things that reminded him of his father that he would never have need for, destroying them one by one, slowly making the house feel like his own. 

Should he redecorate? Maybe. Probably. Why the hell not? But not today. They would be plenty of time for that later on. 

..........................................................................................

That evening, he cooked himself another feast. 

The frozen salmon had sat on the draining board all afternoon - and now he sliced it with a deft skill that only a Shadowhunter possessed, removing the bones, and seasoning it with pepper, salt and other spices he had purchased earlier on. 

Jonathon hummed as he rolled out puff pastry, the sprinkled flour colouring the yellow-cream raw mixture white, as the salmon fried gently in the pan the aromatic scent filling the kitchen, wrapping up the fillets once the pastry was ready. Placing them in a baking tray, along with some chopped vegetables, closing the oven. 

He chopped up some other vegetables to create a salad, as he boiled water so that he cook his couscous. 

Couscous and salmon en croute? With salad and roasted vegetables? Valentine would've been disgusted. Mixing of styles and cultures? Never in his world. Everything had to be pure, separate - or in his words untainted. 

Not in his world. Jonathon's world.

And then it was all done, and his plate was bursting with colour and wonderful tastes imploding on his tongue, his stomach rumbling in appreciation. 

As he sat there, his plate empty, he thought back over his first day. His first, full day. 

He wondered what tomorrow would bring.


	6. Out and About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon goes for a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's just living his life - but stuff will be going on later on, so just hang on.

It was time to explore. 

Jonathon had spent the first few days indoors, relaxing and reading books, watching the television that Valentine had bought solely to show him the news, so he could see how senseless mundanes were, and the absurd reasons that they justified their pointless fighting, as well as the corruption and false pretence that permeated the very fabric of their world - the last of which he had also applied to the Clave.

But now he used it to watch normal shows, avoiding anything serious, wanting to simply let go completely. Nevertheless, there was only so much he could take, and only so many books he could read - especially when he had been taught to read speedily, and absorb information like sponge.

With all that in mind, it was time to go out. It was time to explore some of the place that he would, from now on, call home.

Jonathon knew most of it, of course. However, his knowledge of London came from the way that Sebastian had seen the world. He'd seen everything - but never appreciated it, thought about it, or even considering it to be anything else but a place to bent to his will. There had always been a purpose for any trip - even post Valentine, Sebastian had no time for sightseeing, focused instead on his plans for world destruction, or domination. 

It was time to see them for himself. Without any ulterior motive.

He smiled to himself as he left his house. His house. It sounded so good. 

But he wasn't stupid. He knew that there would be still be Nephilim and Downworlders in London. It was London, for goodness' sake. While everyone thought he was dead, he knew that people would still be jumping at shadows for a little while longer. So, precautions were in order. With a simple spell, his hair was covered in a glamour changing it back to black again, reminiscent, he remembered with a wince, of when he posed as Sebastian Verlac. 

He pushed the thought out of his mind, and began to walk down the road. There was a lot to do today.

..................................................................................

Jonathon stood outside the London Aquarium, having spent the last two hours gawking at all that had been inside of it. He'd never been anywhere like this before - the closest thing he had had to this was a visit to the stables, when Valentine had allowed him to ride a horse. And then repeatedly knocked him off it when they were practising horseback combat. He'd broken a couple of fingers in that particular fall. Business as usual.

The Aquarium was a completely new experience for him. 

Some people had looked at him strangely, as he moved from case to case, not displaying the stereotypical teenager behaviour of I've-seen-it-all. The genuine interest that he had taken in the sea creatures, and the underlying pleasure of freedom that he felt overall were pretty difficult to disguise, even though he knew he had to. He felt like a child, seeing everything for the first time, feeling the excitement of new and the unseen.

The jellyfish reminded him of flexible umbrellas, with tendrils hanging down from where the handle was meant to be. Flexible, some of them immortal they fascinated him. The seahorses were simply cute. He couldn't understand why they were called sea horses - they looked nothing like horses and were far too small for anything to ride . Even a pixie would be too large for them. They were cute enough, however.

The rays had been odd; massive, underwater fowls with no feather and long tails, an aquatic bird of paradise, its beauty only seen as it flowed through its natural element, soaring through the water. It was almost possible to see it flying through the air just as easily. The turtle had simply been interesting. The way it moved, considering its shape and size, kept him occupied for fifteen minutes, watching and marvelling about how something so clumsy looking could be so efficient and elegant. 

He took a quick look at the piranhas - but they reminded him too much of the quite a few things in the world he had come from. Gangs that roamed around, stripping the flesh from their prey without mercy. The Seelie Court, the vampires... and the Clave now that he thought about it. He shuddered slightly. The sharks had been the same. As a whole being, they were amazing. Sleek, ridiculously powerful, turning with a swish of their tails and a redirection of their fins. Their jaws were not what disturbed him - demons had teeth ten times as wicked as that. 

It was their eyes. 

Pitiless, empty, not even cold - just a void, a darkness that Jonathon remembered seeing so often when he had looked in the mirror as Sebastian. Something that occasionally seen in his father's eyes.

He had shivered when he had seen them, and left the place soon after. 

The weak light outside had calmed him slightly, the cold air taking his mind off them as he remembered where the nearest Tube station was, pushing the these memories to one side, determined to make new ones today. His memories. Jonathon's memories. His and his alone.

Onward and upward.

...............................................................................

The museums were awesome. He'd heard that South Kensington was a gold mine for them, and he wasn't disappointed. The Victoria and Albert yielded some interesting pieces of information. He wandered around the halls, full of items from all over the world, as well as some from the British Isles. 

He nearly laughed as he saw some of the exhibits for what they really were. Obviously, some people had wanted their stuff back. Glamours covered some of the statues, the nameplates certainly not correct as he looked at the damaged, or clearly poorly crafted structures that lay underneath. The same applied to some of the books and other items that he saw displayed proudly around, the tourists oohing and ahhing over the illusions, while the Londoners simply wondered around, as if they'd seen it all before - which they probably had.

He moved onto the Natural History Museum, staring at all the information, absorbing it all, knowing that he didn't need to know any of it - and loving it simply because of that. The Tyrannosaurus Rex roared at him, after the Diplodocus greeted him in the foyer, the whip-like tail, and long neck frozen in place, holding its head high and proud, having stood there for nearly hundred years. 

The Blue Whale just hung there, suspended by strings filling the room with it massive presence. It was surprisingly large, but there were some demons of a similar size. Or so he had been told. At least it looked much nicer than a demon, almost friendly. Happy. Perusing through the other rooms, he amused himself for another half an hour or so before heading over to the Science Museum.

Which he absolutely loved. 

It was just so different from the world he was accustomed to. All the inventions, all the designs, all the information that just flowed into him... it was almost too much. 

But it was the Future Room that really had him obsessed. 

Jonathon waited for twenty minutes to get onto the massive spinning discs, the games entrancing him like a spell. He spent an hour on them, ignoring the glares of people who wanted to get on, only leaving when he was truly satisfied with success of the virtual reality. Why was it so fulfilling? Why was it so addictive?

He didn't know. He didn't care. At all. Not one iota. It was simply fun. That was all that mattered. 

So where to now?

.......................................................................

A restaurant. 

Jonathon had taken the Tube back to Central London - specifically to Leicester Square. Turning round a corner, and walking a little way he emerged into Chinatown, the scent of beautiful cooked dishes filling his nostrils as he strolled through the gate under the red archway, engraved with golden characters - similar to Runes, in the fact that each character meant something different. An individual, separate meaning that could be placed with other character to form a sentence, or another character to form a completely different word. 

He let this slide away into the cold air, as he looked around for somewhere to eat. Chinatown was alive with lights and people, and he just moved amongst them, no-one noticing him, no-one screaming as they saw him, their faces contorting in hatred and disgust. 

It was good to be out. 

Stopping by a restaurant he thought looked interesting, he went inside, and was seated in moments.

He ordered his food, and sat there wondering what he should do after he ate. Just as he decided, his food arrived. Steaming hot pork dumplings, sweet and sour chicken, bowls of rice, and beef soup. He devoured it all, letting his tongue savour it all. The pork juices filled his mouth, the succulent meat and bread mixture sliding down his throat, the sweet and sour chicken confusing his mouth as it tried to decide which one it was. When mixed with the rice, the starchy flavour became infused with the seasoning and the taste of the vegetables accompanying it, bring new dimensions to the meal. As he finished off the hearty soup, the waiter bought him his bill. He paid, leaving a tip, and stopped to buy bubble tea before getting on the Tube to head to his final destination for the night.

.............................................................................

Jonathon stood in the pod, watching the evening pass by.

He was on the London Eye, the massive, white wheel that looked like it belonged a futuristic fairground. It turned slowly, casually, as if it had nothing better to do. He looked out over the entirety of the city once known as Londinium. It rose vast and imposing, the few tall buildings rising into the sky while not overpowering it; complimenting it, if it could be described in that way. The night sky was grey, a low potent grey, as if it were predicting something rather than just simply existing. 

But it did not diminish the beauty that rose to meet him as he moved upward.

Lights glowed all over the city, illuminating the buildings came from, so similar to the demon towers in Alicante, and yet so different. This light seemed more raw, unrefined, almost primitive- and all the more beautiful because of it. It was unrefined, free and all the more wonderful because of it.

The other people in the pod with him spoke and made noises of recognition and wonder. He was simply just content to watch it go by, the simple pleasure of just seeing for the sake of it more than enough for him. 

And then the night became astonishingly magical - in a completely non-magical way.

He smiled as the reason the sky was so grey was revealed.

The first water crystal landed on window, melting into liquid, before another one landed on it, covering it up. 

Then the flurry fell, frozen water falling from the heavens, silently, majestically; a gift from Mother Nature herself, a white rain falling to blanket the earth. The sights disappeared behind the snow, the lights still visible, the iconic buildings and parts of the skyline peeping out, playing hide and seek with the weather. 

Jonathon absorbed it all in, his eyes capturing it all, trying to preserve the what he was feeling, attempting to sear the images into his mind. His memories. Jonathon's memories. His first sightseeing memoirs.

All his. No taint of anyone, or anything else here. 

He couldn't wait to walk home in the snow. He was going to be cold when he arrived. His hair was going to be wet. He might catch a cold. Or slip over. But he really didn't care.

It was picturesque. 

It was perfect. 

Or so he thought.


	7. The New Year

It was New Year's Eve. The 31st December. The final day of the year. The last day of 2008. A time for reflection, celebration - for parties, for laughter, for fun and games. 

But Jonathon didn't feel like doing any of that. Laughter was one of the last things on his mind at the moment.

He paused for a minute lowering himself from ninety degree press-up he was doing slowly, his stomach and arm muscles screaming, as he touched the floor, rolling over onto his back staring at the ceiling.

The first few days had been a revelation. He'd lounged around, doing absolutely nothing, reading books and watching television, cooking himself lavish meals three times a day. After that, he'd spent some time just out and about in London, wandering around aimlessly, seeing the sights as he came across them, discovering the mundane world, marvelling at the simplicity of it all. 

But it wasn't enough. Even when he'd been watching television and reading, there had been a discomfort. A feeling that he couldn't shake. It hadn't struck him at first, but had crept up on him, an invisible gang of thieves to snatch at the happiness that he had only recently discovered. The wandering had staved it off a little, but it been sharpened, and jabbed him whenever he wasn't distracted. When he remembered, it weighed down on him, gnawing at his very being, consuming his thoughts. 

So he had started training again. 

Every house Valentine had ever owned had had a training room. This one was no different. The kitchen was reasonably sized, but the front room had been remodelled and shrunk so that the room could be inserted on the ground floor - really, who were they going to be entertaining?

Every weapon imaginable lined the walls, each of them used, the handle showing wear, but not so much that they would have to replaced. The floor was not padded - what, his father had said, was the point of having a cushion when life had no padding? 

As he stared at the ceiling, Jonathon saw all the scars that his predecessor and his father had put there, the memories of their fierce battles surging upward as he recalled the harsh training he had been through. There were also the ones he didn't recognise - those from Jace and his father. 

He wondered what Jace had said to his father about the additional marks. The golden haired boy hadn't known about him at all. Until he had first met him as Sebastian in Alicante, at the Penhallow's - and even then, hadn't known who he was. 

The boy with the golden hair, and the golden eyes. Valentine's favourite. The child who wasn't even his actual son. The child who he left because he was too gentle - and then had offered place at his side once again.

Sebastian would've never have gotten that chance. Had his previous self even mentioned leaving in passing - well, he would've been alive only long enough to do what he had to do before Valentine killed him. 

But he had doubted that he would've lived after he'd outlived Valentine's use for him anyway. He wasn't pure. Demon blood had run through his body, and even though his father had been the one who put it there, he wouldn't have really cared either way. In his new world of Shadowhunters, Jace would have been welcome. He would not have been. 

His thoughts turned to Jace's girlfriend, the sister he barely knew, Clarissa - Clary as she liked to be called. Even though Valentine had said that she meant nothing to him, and was simply useful to him as leverage against Jocelyn, he had still had a look in his eye that he never had when he mentioned her. A look he never had when he was speaking to him. 

A look of acceptance. That look that Valentine had got when saw something that he felt belonged in his world. He had never looked at him like that. Even Jocelyn had gotten that look; Jocelyn, the woman that had betrayed him and thwarted his plans, setting them back years, destroying his Circle and nullifying the Uprising, forcing him to go into hiding for over a decade.

It wasn't fair. He wasn't Sebastian. Why should he have to suffer for the crimes of the demon who had worn his face for his whole life? 

Why did he have to be alone because of that?

Even Sebastian, with all his demon power and destructive emotionless rational had not been able to prevent loneliness from creeping up on him. It was why he had now gone, ironically. He just couldn't be alone. Even to the point where he had lured his adoptive brother and his sister into Edom, knowing that they alone possessed the means to kill him. And kill him they had. Freeing him, but still leaving him, in some respects, right where he had started.

Even as he had burnt in the heavenly fire, he had seen them cling onto each other; Magnus and Alec, Luke and Jocelyn, Simon and Isabelle. He knew Jace and his sister would've been doing the same thing, had they been standing next to each other. 

He didn't even have anyone to say hi to. 

It wasn't fair. At all. Unbidden, another one of Valentine's lessons rose to him.

'What is fair to someone is a loss to someone else. Mundanes enjoy parading the idea of fairness around as if it is a going to save. It simply is a placebo - it makes them feel better about themselves, makes them believe that they are entitled to something when in reality, no-one is entitled to anything. Nothing is ever fair. Do not be deluded into thinking so. Who are we to decide what we deserve? Take and fight for what you want. In the end, you can only rely on what you have earned - not what is fair.'

His father's lesson seemed to ring in his ears. It was true. 

But even so, it still wasn't fair. 

He flipped to his feet, his legs moving up his torso and head remaining where they lay before he flicked upward, his body temporarily suspended in midair as he rose his stomach muscles complaining as he did so, but not failing him. One second he was on the ground; the next he was upright, sweating and tingling with endorphins. 

It was New Year's Eve. And he was at home. Doing nothing, all alone.

Jonathon knew that all the people he'd had just been thinking about would be with each other - laughing, celebrating, having fun. As was almost everyone else in the world, waiting to welcome in the New Year. 2008. 

Then there was him.

He flopped back down onto the floor, closing his eyes. 

...................................................................................

It was dark. He couldn't move for some reason. He thought he was in his room, but he couldn't be sure. Even his Shadowhunter eyes could not pierce through the gloom.

And then the voice began to whisper. 

It was an insidious voice. But familiar. He thought he knew it. But he couldn't think of from where. Then it hit him. 

Valentine. Jocelyn. Jace. Clary. Simon. Alec. Magnus. Isabelle. The Seelie Queen. And a thousand others, all their voices mixed into one, and yet still all separate, burning into him, vibrating through his skull, incessant and yet halting, beautiful and yet discordant, a wicked choir. 

'Always alone. From the day you were born. Your mother didn't want you, neither did your father once he had had his way with you. Your sister despises you, and the closest thing you have to an adoptive brother would kill you on sight. As would any Shadowhunter try to. He's more powerful than you. The demon blood that made you strong is gone - and he still has the angel blood running through his veins. You might be the better fighter, but he has speed and strength that far exceeds your own now. The faeries, the werewolves, the warlocks, the vampires... they despise you, and would fight for your blood if they knew were alive. Oh, and the humans would try to as well, if they knew who you were, what you did. Your alone, all alone and you always will be. Sebastian is gone - but his legacy will haunt you forever, Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern.' 

They all stopped abruptly. Just like that. Silence. Cold silence for but a second before a new voice greeted him. One that was seductive, and yet quieter than the others, and yet still far more commanding, a dark force behind it.

But come to me. I will always want you. I will always need you. I will always accept you. If you want to be, you will always be mine. You will never be lonely again. We will do great things you and I. 

A face formed out of the darkness. A beautiful face, serene and inviting. A woman's face. Dark eyes, fathomless and wonderful and terrifying all at once. He tried to move - and found he still couldn't.

I would never make you feel this way. I saved you, made you whole again.

Two snake like appendages extended from the eyes to stroke his face as he tried to cry out, their red eyes winking at him.

I am your mother, after all. 

...................................................................................

Jonathon woke up with a start, his heart trying to break his ribcage so it could escape, finding himself on his feet in a second, his fists raised, ready for a fight.

As his adrenaline settled slightly, his eyes focused. He was still in the training room; falling asleep like that was not something he'd normally do. 

The dream echoed in his mind. The voices, their words, Lilith-

Suddenly, the house felt oppressive. It seemed to encroach in on him, taunting him, the silence whispering to him in a tiny, phantom voice, complimenting his thoughts. 

He had to get out of here. Now. He needed some fresh air. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was only 9 o'clock. There was still plenty of time before the fireworks began. But in light of that dream, the outside world seemed more welcoming than in here.

He padded over the door silently, and threw it open, heading towards the stairs. A quick shower, and then he was hitting the road. 

..........................................................................................

Jonathon stood in the crowd, the excitement and electricity of the anticipation surrounding him, but failing to permeate into his soul. It drifted over his skin, wrapping him, mummifying his very being, but failing to really touch him. 

This wasn't how he had imagined his first New Year. But, Jonathon remembered, both wryly and bitterly, things never seemed to be as good as you thought they were going to be. At least, when it came to him.

People smiled and laughed, some tipsy, some completely drunk, swaying as the music played from the bars and restaurants. He stood by the riverbank, weaving through the crowd, shouldering his way to the front, so he could have a better view of the show that would soon begin. 

Noise could be heard all around, a cacophony of something that seemed to be close to rapture filling the air, as the clocks kicked down to the start of another year. A fresh slate. A time to begin again. Or at least that's what was supposed to mean. 

He didn't feel he could start again. The dream he had only a few minutes ago weighed down on his mind, the whispering voices telling him that he was always going to be alone. The voice of Lilith calling to him, telling him that she would always want him, she would accept him-

But he couldn't go back to her. Between her blood and Valentine, his life hadn't really been a life. The life he could've lived, with people who would've cared about him had he been Jonathon when he was born - it was ash. A dream within a nightmare. A wasteland, like Edom, something he would never be able to resurrect. 

Somebody shouldered into him, barging him along - or trying to at least. Despite his considerable loss in strength, he was still a Shadowhunter, far stronger than the average human.

"Budge over," a voice said. 

Jonathon turned his head to see, a girl trying to move him over with her hip, wearing a long, sleek dark green dress, covered with a long black coat, the hem of garment peeking out at the bottom. Her high heels gave her extra height, but she was still considerably shorter than he was. Her dark hair and eyes complimented her pale skin, as she stared at him from beneath her hood.

"Budge over," she repeated, smiling at him slightly. "I don't think you need all that room."

"What- Sorry," Jonathon replied, realising that he'd been taking up more room than he first thought, his elbows stretched over the concrete wall that prevented onlookers from falling into the river. Retracting them him, allowed the woman to squeeze in next to him. 

He turned to look back at the sky, his mind beginning to wander once more.

"What's wrong with you?" 

He looked curiously at the woman. "Do I look like there's something wrong with me?"

"It's New Year's Eve - and you don't look happy. It's normally the only time of the year when everyone looks remotely pleased. But you look like you've just gone home to find that your home has been burgled."

"It could be that he broke up with his girlfriend."

Jonathon and the woman turned to the man standing on the other side of him; a tall man with black hair shot through with grey and blue eyes, dressed in jeans and a large, puffy black and orange jacket, with grey gloves covering his fingers. 

"Girlfriend?" Jonathon choked out. "Girl-"

"Boyfriend, then?"

"No-"

The man continued. "Oh come on, it's a fair assumption to make. What else could make someone your age come here on New Year's Eve, without any of his friends, or some pretty girl?"

"He has a point. In any case, you are quite the looker," the woman said from the other side. "Not that I'm interested. But the point is, people that look like you generally aren't ever alone. Somebody always wants to be with you."

"Not me."

"Why's that?" the man asked, genuinely curious. 

Jonathon wanted to laugh. Was it even possible to explain what had happened? He wasn't even sure if someone from the Shadow World would believe him. Mundanes? Impossible.

"We had a... falling out. A major falling out. With all my friends... and family. It was unpleasant, and they made it quite clear that they never wanted to see me ever again."

"It was that bad? There's no chance of reconciliation?"

"Worse than whatever you're thinking." 

"Was it your fault?" the woman asked, her dark eyes devoid of anything but intrigue. 

"I really wasn't myself at the time. At all. I had some serious issues, that got sorted out eventually. But even so, I don't think it matters - the damage was done. They'll never see me any other light, or even consider it. I've lost them forever. Everyone I might have cared for..."

Jonathon turned his face to the sky, tears gathering, but refusing to fall. He wouldn't cry here. Not in front of these strangers. So he fixed his eyes on the dark night, the blackness as empty and featureless as the hole within his soul.

Before he knew it, Big Ben rang, the tolling sound ringing through the air, as the year 2007 came to end, gone into the mists of time, never to be forgotten, but completely inaccessible. A year that had been full of misery and pain for the Shadow World, the results of which now came back to haunt him. All caused by him and his father. 

The fireworks erupted, their brilliance burning across the heavens, shimmering and gleaming brighter than a seraph blade, crackling out into multicoloured sparks that could've come from a warlock's hand. 

"You can start over."

The words were said quietly, but he still heard them, amidst the cheers of the crowd, and the booms of the explosions that decorated the sky with all the colour of the rainbow, patterns splayed across the heavens as if someone was manipulating coloured flames across the aether, the burning paint flaring for a second before it sunk back into the vast canvas.

"If they can't forgive you - well, you have to move on. Find some new friends. Meet new people."

He looked at her - but her eyes remained on the fireworks, watching them arch and explode. 

"Don't pine after a life that you've lost when you still have all of it ahead of you. A new year isn't what you need for a new beginning. You need to be ready for it. That's the only way it will work, and sustain itself."

Jonathon turned back to the display.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Either way, you've admitted that there's no chance of you and whoever you fell out with making up. Move one. Dwelling on the past for too long is never a good thing. You can't forget it - but don't let it become your future. That's a story to written by you, and you alone." 

"Even if you don't think you can move on?"

"Especially when you don't think you can."

Jonathon kept watching the light show, the golden flicker in his chest rekindling as the lights burst before his eyes, the Shadowhunter vision he was blessed with picking out each variant of colour that appeared before him.

"Thanks. I think I'll try that."

"I'm only doing for you what someone once did for me."

When the fireworks died down with one massive grand finale, a bang that left grey smoke tumbling through the air, he turned to talk to her once more. 

But she was gone. Jonathon looked around into the dissipating crowd, searching for her. She was nowhere to be found. 

He stared up and the curling leftovers of the old year, and a tiny smile crept onto his face.

Time to try something new.


	8. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big day. A new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Right. This shouldn't be too difficult. This wasn't going to be difficult at all. 

So why did he feel like running back home? Why was the thought of wandering London so appealing in comparison to what he was about to do? Hell, even the thought of meeting a Shadowhunter was better than-

Okay. Calm down, he told himself. It's not that bad.

But it really was. This was unspeakably nerve wracking, and he had no idea how he was going to handle it. 

Sebastian would've just swaggered in, giving everyone and everything the once over with a casually cold glance, his eyes seeking those he could bully or toy with, those who needed to be beaten in the submission, and those who he could exploit with impunity.

Jonathon didn't know what to do. He knew where he should be going, but his feet didn't want to move.

People passed around him, some of them looking, some of the completely ignoring him. He wasn't sure which one he preferred - but neither one was really helping him now.

Jonathon restrained himself from jumping when the school bell went, the ringing surprising him, and looked at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes until he'd have to be in his seat in class. Which was... where again? His mind's eye conjured the map the receptionist had given him to the forefront of his mind. 

It hadn't been hard getting into the school. He was still a disturbingly good liar (another thing to thank his father for) and had convinced them that he was student who had moved to London with his father, who was an international lawyer. A bit of magic never went amiss, and soon the headmistress was welcoming him into her school.

He began to move, his feet moving on their own, his instincts taking over as he headed towards his home room. Or was it form room in England? Dismissing these thoughts, he continued on, down corridors and up a flight of stairs - and then he was right there.

Deciding to just go with the flow, he walked in, trying to ignore the nerves that were doing the Riverdance on his heart and stomach. Whoever had said nerves felt like butterflies was officially a liar. 

The room was spacious, the tables arranged in four rows of five, arranged in a strange pattern. One table, a gap, then three tables, another gap and then the last table, the lone tables pushed up against the wall. Two chairs were placed behind each of the plastic surfaces, varying in colour. He saw red, blue, black, grey... a complete mishmash as if someone hadn't been able to decide what colour they wanted, and had just gone for them all. The carpet was an odd grey-green colour, the walls a very neutral beige, that looked like it had seen better days. Educational posters plastered the walls, addressing maths, science, religion and a thousand other things that he took in the once over he gave them. 

Eyes followed him as he made way to the back of the classroom, where he sat in the third row from the front, right up against the wall. The windows let the weak grey sunlight in, throwing an odd pallor over the room when combined with the stark industrial lighting that came from above.

He sat down gracefully (he hoped) and stretched out his legs, placing his bag on the table in front of him, and leaning back against the wall, waiting. For what, he didn't quite know.

"Are you new?"

Jonathon turned his gaze across the classroom, meeting the eyes of the boy who had asked. 

He was about his height, but more broad shouldered, more filled out. His hair was black, and tightly plaited into narrow cornrows, the ends of which hit the middle of his shoulders. His skin was cocoa brown, his eyes such a dark brown that any ordinary person would call them black. Jonathon's Shadowhunter eyes, on the other hand, caught the difference with ease - and anyway, he knew what eyes that were truly black looked like. He was sloughed in his chair, and looked quite comfortable. He had an inverted triangle shaped face, plump lips and an average sized nose. 

"Yeah. I joined a couple of days ago."

"Which school did you come from?"

"One overseas. My dad moves around a lot for work - he's an intentional lawyer - so I don't really stay in one place for very long."

The boy shrugged. "Is it fun travelling?"

"Not all the time. But I learn a lot, so I guess it's fun."

"Do you mind me asking something a bit personal?"

"Not really."

"How come you're not at a private school?" 

The question threw Jonathon. "What?"

" Generally, people who travel go to private school since they can afford them. And while this isn't a bad school, this isn't the best one - not by a long chalk."

You had to pay to go to school in some places? That was interesting. Even the Shadowhunters didn't make their own pay to go to the Academy - when it was still open. 

"My dad doesn't see the point. He say that I'll either learn or just not bother to - it doesn't matter where I go. So he doesn't see the point of paying for school when it's free. And anyway, I'm normally not around for more than a year."

"Sounds like an interesting guy."

That's one way of putting it, Jonathon thought.

"What's your name?"

"Jonathon."

"I'm Nathan. Nate, if you can't be bothered to say the whole thing."

"Pleased to meet you... Nate."

Nate smiled, his eyes seeming twinkle. "So what are you studying then?"

"Latin, French, Philosophy and Geography."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "That's one ugly combination."

"Why would you say that?"

"That's enough writing to kill someone. Twice over."

Jonathon shrugged. It was all he could have picked from the list. The basics of sciences and maths had been taught to him, but beyond that he didn't know too much - unless it was Shadow World related. The reading list for English Literature had seemed to be far too simplistic for his tastes. 

In terms of actual knowledge, he pretty much knew Latin back to front. French was a doddle, and he'd read most of the philosophers he'd be discussing in his class. And how hard could Geography be? Even at AS level.

"It's what I know. What are you taking?"

"Maths, Physics, Philosophy and Art."

Jonathon raised an eyebrow. "I read through the curriculum for every single subject. Your combination is far worse than mine. My workload might kill someone, but yours would sent them to straight to hell."

"I disagree. Well, at least I'll be seeing you in Philosophy. There's only one class for that."

Jonathon half nodded, smiling slightly, not sure exactly what he should say. "Sure thing."

More members of the class filtered in, most of them looking in Jonathon's direction, but not saying anything. An even mixture of boys and girls, he noted. The last one sauntered in as the bell rang, the clanging fading away as the teacher entered the room, the hum of chat quietening down but not completely dissipating. 

She was a woman of medium height, her grey hair tied back in a neat ponytail, dressed smartly in a white blouse, grey jacket and grey skirt, low black heels on her feet. The lines on her face accentuated her blue eyes, and gave her face character as she stared out over her form class.

She sat down at the behind the desk at the front of the room, placing the laptop under her arm on the table in front of her, and began to take the register. 

Jonathon paid attention to the names that were called, matching person to their title, memorising them instantly. 

And then his name was called.

"Jonathon?"

"Present," he said, resisting the urge to stand up, since none of the others had. Another Valentine trait he was going to have to break.

The teacher fixed him with her gaze, her mouth a thin line. "You're our new student, I take it?"

"Yes," he said cautiously. 

She suddenly broke into a smile. " I'm Ms Weatherby. If you any trouble, I'll be more than happy to help, as will any other member of staff, or your classmates. You've got a school map?"

"Yeah. I should be alright getting around."

"Well, I hope you settle in well, and enjoy your time at Isambard Brunel High School."

...............................................................

His first lesson was Geography - which was a surprise to him. 

Apparently, his father's version of Geography was significantly outdated. Map reading, and general knowledge of the country, its traditions, customs and terrain were a thing of the past. 

Jonathon spent an hour trying to hide his distinct lack of knowledge from the rest of the class. Fortunately, Mrs Seymour didn't ask him any questions preferring to let him settle rather than stressing him out on his first day. But the terminology baffled him? Population distribution? Population pyramid? Global warming? Gross Domestic Product? Ecotourism?

What the heck?

Poring over the textbook, he realised that the situation wasn't so dire as he first thought - although he had a lot learn, it was only the terminology and case studies that he really had to learn, along with thought process that accompanied the subject. Not too much, when compared to what Valentine had put him through. 

Jonathon barely felt that he had sat down when the bell tolled once more, announcing the end of his lesson, and then he was among the mass of students, a sea of black and white uniforms moving through the corridors, electrons in the wire, all cramped together, moving in all different directions. 

Managing to get to his next lesson in decent time, he flopped into a seat, the class considerably smaller than his Geography one. 

The teacher, a young Frenchman called Mr Géroux, strolled him behind him.

"Ton nom est Jonathon?" 

"Oui, Monsieur."

"Ton accent est magnifique. As-tu habité en France?"

By the end of the lesson, Jonathon seemed to be the new favourite pupil in the class. His French was far superior to anyone else, bar another member of the class who was a French native - and even she looked impressed. Mr Géroux was basically giddy with joy by the time the class was over, and asking that Jonathon possibly help out in the French club in ran for the younger members of the school. His enthusiasm was overwhelming - but Jonathon politely said that he'd have to get back to him later. Committing to things too early on was not a good idea.

Break time was straight after this, and Jonathon decided that he was going to explore the school. He had the map in his head, and the wielded it with skill, wandering around the two story building, and all of the surrounding smaller building that made up the rest of the facility. He ignored all the glances he was getting, assuming that they were simply noticing someone they hadn't seen before. 

It was an odd mix of modern and archaic, the buildings varying from old to new. It was a reasonable size, with two large playing fields behind it. The sports hall was also quite large, with two separate courts within in, balconies overlooking both, enough spaces around sides for spectators, if they were brave enough to stand there. 

He was making his way to the canteen, when the bell rang again indicating that he had to go to his - where? He had a free period. 

So he continued to the canteen, and took a quick look around. It was all very modern - plastic, laminate and metal. His lips twisted - traditional wooden kitchens looked better than this. It was too futuristic for his personal tastes. They seemed to be beginning to prepare for lunch. It smelled alright - he checked the menu and pursed his lips. Maybe. Maybe not. He'd have to try it before he came to a conclusion.

Where to next? 

The Study Room. 

It sounded foreboding, and slightly imposing.

May as well go and check it out. He'd have to do it sometime - why not now?

He made his way to entrance of the building, and walked into a massive room, full of students working at individual desks - old fashioned wooden things, scored with compass scars, pencils and pens marks. People nodded their head to music only they could hear, their headphones cutting them off from the rest of the world. His ears picked up all different genres; he knew none of their artists, and none of the genres, but he was interested to learn. 

The room was unusually quiet, the only sound the scratching of writing implements, the tiny sighs of frustrated students filling the air, their breathing audible in the silence. No-one looked up as he walked in, and a man sat behind a desk, his eyes watching over the entire room, seemingly ensuring that everyone kept silent.

Jonathon moved silently through the room, heading towards the stairs that lead to the computer room. He ascended them in the same manner he would if he had been tracking a demon. The feel in the air was about the same. The computers hummed, the air conditioning keeping the room cool as he strolled through, and out the other side. 

He let out an audible breath as exited, the weight of silence lifting from him. That was imposing.

By contrast, the library was little more relaxed. It was brighter, and less institutionalised, easy chairs and sofas around, more traditional furniture also installed for those who came to work. Quiet chatter was present here, the librarian shushing them when they became too loud. 

Jonathon ran his hands over the rows of fiction in front of him. Valentine had never allowed him to read fiction - except for things that were decades old. Nothing modern. But here was a plethora of stories, ripe for the picking. 

A little smile managed to twist its way onto his face. 

He'd been nervous about joining a school. But he had wanted a normal life - and that's what people his age did. Went to school. Received an education. Went onto university. Got a job - had a normal life.

Strangely enough, he was looking forward to that.

Plucking a book off the shelf that interested him, he flopped into an easy chair and began to read.


	9. Blast From The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past catches up with him, slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks - share if you like this.

The clanking of the bell hurried him along to his next lesson. He taken the book out of the library, along with some others - some of which were called manga. It was all slightly bewildering - and completely amazing at the same time. A whole new world. 

Nate beckoned him over when entered his Philosophy class, indicating that he should sit in the seat next to him. 

"How's it been so far?"

"Interesting. I took myself on a tour of the school. It's quite nice."

Nate shrugged. "It's functional. You gotten lost yet?"

"No - I'm pretty good with maps."

"You do a lot of hiking then?"

"A fair bit," Jonathon replied wryly, remembering the time when Valentine had dropped him off in the middle of the Black Forest and told him to find his way out. Fortunately, he had memorised the maps a couple of months before, and with the outdoor pursuit skills he had learnt, had managed to get out in the allotted time. "What's this class like?"

"Abstract. Full of twists and turns. But it's fun, in its own convoluted way."

The teacher, Ms Jarius, a mixed race lady with her long curly hair tied her into a bun, wearing a long flowing green and blue dress walked in and began to talk on Aristotle's Ethics. Jonathon was quite familiar with that particular text, and soon was fully immersed in a conversation that made the hour fly by. The conversation went back and forth and got quite heated, but Ms Jarius toned it down, tempering and twisting it in the direction that she wanted it go, while allowing enough freedom to express themselves. 

Jonathon was caution at first, not accustomed to having his opinions heard. But he soon warmed to the idea, and just let himself go with stream of conversation, really expressing himself for the first time. He left the class with Nate, his head spinning with all the different opinions.

"What's next?"

"Lunch," Nate said stretching as he walked. "I'm going to meet one of my friends in the canteen. You want to come?"

Jonathon, having seen the menu, didn't think he did. But he might as well. There was no harm in sampling it, and Nate seemed nice enough. He hadn't had lunch with anyone for a while. And never with anyone who wanted to have it with him.

They waded through the students, ending up in the restaurant, through a mixture of brute force and polite excuse me's the younger student protesting behind them, but not making too much noise. They joined the back of the queue, and chattered about general things before they got their food. Shepherd's pie and vegetables. It looked... edible. 

"So where are we sitting?" Jonathon asked, looking around the partially empty space, that was filling up quite rapidly. 

"Over there," Nate replied, beginning to move through the tables skilfully, with a grace that told him he definitely did some type of sports or exercise. It wasn't at the level of a Shadowhunter, but pretty good for someone without Raziel's blood. Then he slowed, sliding into a chair, next to-

Jonathon dropped his plate, his reflexes reacting in a moment to catch it just before the Shepherd's pie hit the ground. 

"You alright?" Nate said, looking at him with concern. 

But Jonathon wasn't paying any attention to him at that moment, the control beaten into him asserting itself over his surprise in a moment. 

He was looking at the girl next to him.

The faerie girl.

................................................................................

She was striking.

Her skin was a perfect mix between copper and gold, a living embodiment of the legendary orichalcum that had supposedly been mined in Atlantis. Her hair was wavy, and hung halfway down her back, a dark blue-black, the colour of midnight, the fringe held back by a silver clip. A face that belonged on royalty, noble and strong to the point of being haughty. Her irises were the colour of molten silver, , the rim of which was dark green, the pupils at the middle of them the colour of the Arctic ice, and just as frosty. 

Jonathon recovered quickly his heart pounding in his chest.

What was a faerie doing at a school in London?

"Nothing. Just felt a bit faint for moment," Jonathon replied, sliding into the chair across from Nate. He could feel the faerie's eyes burning into him as began to each. The food was palatable. Bland, but it would do for now. But at this point, that was the least of his worries. 

"So, is this the friend you were talking about?"

"Yeah. Alyssa joined Isambard Brunel about five years ago, and we've been good friends ever since." Nate turned to her. "This is Jonathon."

"Hey," she said, her eyes widening once more, and then narrowing as she looked at the scars of his arms. Alyssa could quite clearly see through the glamour he had put on them. 

She seemed to concentrate, and then her own glamour returned. Her skin turned mocha brown, her hair remaining the same, but without the blue tint to it. Her desolate pupils filled in with black, and seemed to expand to the iris of the pupil, returning her eyes to a human colour. 

She was still absolutely striking, beautiful in the way only an angel or a statue could be.

"Is there something on my face?"

Jonathon shook himself out of his reverie. "Sorry. I thought I recognised you from somewhere," he said covering it up smoothly. "I travel a lot - I see a lot of people."

She nodded, as if she understood where he was going with this. "So where have you lived?"

"France, Switzerland... Just around Europe mainly."

"So how many languages do you know?"

"Upward of four."

"Reading and writing as well?"

Jonathon looked surprised. "Of course."

Nate looked at him, swallowing a forkful of shepherd's pie. "Wow. That's intense."

"And Physics isn't? And Maths?" 

"Yeah. But until you get to university level and beyond, once you understand the process, it's not difficult to manage - as long as you practise. You speak, in your own words 'upward of four'. Most people can't here can't read anything except English, even if they speak a second language - and half them say that they can't even do that properly."

Jonathon shrugged it off. It had never occurred to him this might be the case. The only person he had ever compared his education to was Jace. And Jace had had the same education as him. Not exactly a traditional pathway.

"Just some things I picked up."

"I'm sure," Alyssa said. She turned to Nate. "Could you go and get us some water, please? I'm a little thirsty."

"Sure. You want one, Jonathon?"

"Thanks."

As he left, the girl turned back to him. If her eyes could've been on fire they would've been. Bonfires that would burnt more fiercely than a forest fire, the demonic and angelic heritage glaring at him through her curly eyelashes. 

Alyssa leaned forward. "What the hell is Shadowhunter doing at a mundane school? I thought you guys through these people were beneath you?"

"I'm an outcast."

"Really?" she said. "The Clave are desperately recruiting Shadowhunters from all over the globe. The Dark War left them decimated, and they are contacting everyone they can. So why aren't you with them? And what are you doing here? More importantly, why do you look familiar?"

Jonathon knew Sebastian would've remembered seeing this faerie if she had been in Seelie Court. It hadn't just been the Queen he'd been in bed with. "I could ask you the same question. What's a faerie doing at a school? And for so long as well? What's your game?"

"Don't question me!" she replied furiously. "I asked you first. Answer me goddamnit, or so help me-"

She paused mid threat, her eyes widening. "Oh my- You're him."

A blade of ice pierced his heart. She couldn't know, she couldn't know, she couldn't know-

His first frickin' day.

"You're Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern. Sebastian."

Merde.

...........................................................................

Nate chose the perfect moment to return. 

"Here you go," he said placing three cups of water down, allocating them with one each. 

Alyssa reacted instantly withdrawing, settling down, smoothing her face into relaxed position - but not before she gave him a look that told him this wasn't over.

Outwardly, he looked as she did. Calm and collected. But inside he was literally exploding inside a mixture of fire and ice. A volcano meeting a blizzard. 

Why did the universe seem intent on destroying what he wanted for himself? He had gone to a school in the middle of the largest and most populated city in England. How did end up in a school a faerie? And one that knew his name to boot?

His dreams were unravelling faster than the storyline in Eastenders. Why, oh why?

Faeries. The most manipulative and dangerous out of all the Downworlders, older than all the others, and in some respects, more devious and deadly than demons. 

Now he was sitting opposite one. One who knew who he was - and would certainly know about his predecessor's relationship with the Seelie Queen. 

His mind began to analyse the situation analytically, processing what he was going to have to do to get away from the wrath of the faeries. Even though he was no longer Sebastian, he doubted they care. They had lost the Dark War, and if he knew the Clave, they were probably subject to some harsh punishments that they wouldn't appreciate at all. Without the strength of the Endarkened, they wouldn't be able to take the Nephilim on directly, and would probably be vent their frustration in other ways. If they found him...

Well, he didn't know who'd be worse. The Clave of the Faerie Courts?

Neither sounded good. And if word got out, the werewolves would be after him as well. The vampires might be after him as well, after the death of Raphael Santiago. 

He was going to have to run. For his life. Literally. But where was he going to go this time?

He had no idea.

But he chattered away with them, talking to them, not allowing his worries to appear on his face as he finished his meal. 

"What are you going to do now?" Nate asked, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between his the newbie and his old friend. 

"Umm, I don't know..."

"Why doesn't he come with us?" Alyssa announced, to Jonathon's immense surprise. "We're going to the common room after all. He may as well take the plunge into the masses of the Sixth Form."

"I'm not sure-"

"Come on," Nate said, standing up. "It won't be that bad. Well, for us anyway."

"That's so reassuring."

........................................................

Jonathon didn't know what to do as he walked beside Nate, Alyssa on the other side, her glamour flickering - in his eyes anyway. No-one else seemed to see anything, Nate chatting to the two of them as if they were the two most ordinary people in the world.

Arriving at the common room, they strolled straight in, pushing the heavy door open. The buzz of the room emerged to meet them, accosting Jonathon's ears as the masses of students chatted, crowded around small tables, or seated in clusters, laughing, talking, glaring, arguing. 

Snippets of conversation came to his ears, but he didn't completely understand them.

"-new single coming out-"

"GCSE's were easy compared to this-"

"-Aliens vs Predator: Requiem was awesome, but so was St Trinian's, surprisingly. Gemma Arterton is so hot-"

Nate navigated the room with ease, stopping by a mixed group of boys and girls. Before Jonathon could get there, he felt a hand on his sleeve, pulling him back towards the door. 

"I forgot something in the canteen," Alyssa said loudly. "I just need to go back and get it. I'm going to drag this one along with me so he can get to know the school better."

Nate shrugged, smiled and turned back to his other friends.

Crisp, winter air swirled past them as they stepped out into strolling back towards the canteen. Once they were out of sight of the common room, she turned to him her glamour still firmly in place. 

"Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern. Sebastian. The lover and ally of the Seelie Queen." Her voice was cold. "I thought you were dead. At least that's what I heard. Being smote by heavenly fire is no joke. How did you survive? And what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Jonathon replied, batting his emotions aside. "What is a faerie doing here? In a human school? And how did you recognise me? I've never seen you before-"

"Everyone knows you. Blond hair, almost white. A face that is as beautiful and cruel as one of our own. A slender, powerful build, and eyes are as dark as depths of hell. Your contacts hide it well."

"My what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are... contacts? These are my eyes."

"Don't lie to me. I don't know what you're up to, but you aren't going to ruin everything here for me. I know what you're like, Sebastian-"

"I'm not Sebastian."

The words came out with clenched teeth, almost savage, with a vehemence that made her recoil slightly. 

"I'm Jonathon. Sebastian died when the heavenly fire burnt the demon blood out of me. I'm no longer Lilith's child, and not interested in taking over the world!"

Alyssa looked at him, caution and interest fighting for dominance. 

Interest won out in the end. 

"So what are you interested in then? What's a Shadowhunter doing at a school?"

"As you've probably worked out, I'm not welcome anywhere in the Shadow World. Nobody would believe that I'm not the same person anymore, and most of them would want me dead. So I've left the Shadow World. Nothing good happened to me there - and I wanted to start over."

To his surprise, Alyssa looked at him with something akin to understanding - the closest a faerie could get to actually caring. Folding her arms, she fixed him with a piercing stare that he hoped he was returning.

"So you're not here with the Clave, or on some evil errand? You're simply try to hide?"

"Preferably hide and live at the same time. I just want to be normal."

She looked away, turning her head to the side. "I can understand that." Her eyes flickered back in his direction, her head not moving in slightest, the glamour rippling slightly. 

"Nate quite likes you. He seems to think you're alright. But I'll be keeping an eye on you. Any trouble - especially Shadow World trouble..." She smiled. 

It was not a kind smile.

"I was a faerie knight. A highly ranked one. One of the best. I don't need to betray you to the Clave or the Seelie Court to be rid of you. And don't," she said, raising a finger to him, "think about asking me any questions. Come on. Let's go back before Nate wonders if we've got lost."

She turned away leaving him to follow her, seeping away with both elegance and grace.

Jonathon, completely nonplussed, could do little more than follow.


	10. Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School isn't always lambs and roses.

The rest of lunchtime was both great and terrifying at the same time. His mind was literally tumbling through what had just happened, as he met loads of people, learning their names, and talking to them, trying to integrate himself into this new, slightly overwhelming world - while a reminder of the one that he had left behind stood a few feet away. Alyssa flickered between her guise as a human and her true faeire self in his eyes, occasionally glancing at him, looking away when she saw him noticing her glances.

Jonathon was felt as being split in half. The rational part of his mind wanted to go to ground, to hide, to flee from this reminder of the world he had only just tried to leave behind - and especially since she was faerie.

The more fanciful side of his mind wanted to stay. It was only his first day - and while he couldn't make up his mind about whether he liked the place in such a short space of time, he had enjoyed himself so far. Nate seemed nice enough, as well as the other people he'd met so far. And Alyssa didn't seem to be interested in exposing him to the Clave or the Seelie Court. Although she had threatened to kill him.

But he could handle that.

The afternoon form session was quiet, the other class members chatting with him with the interest that all new members of any body of people attracted. 

Then it was time for Latin.

.............................................................................................

The windows were all closed, the radiators turned up, so that the room was warm, but somehow, not unbearably so. 

Jonathon looked around for a seat, and finding one began to walk over towards it.

"That's my seat."

He turned around to see a boy with dark blond hair and brown eyes staring at him fiercely, his mouth twisted into a slight sneer. 

"Sorry." Jonathon moved over to what looked like another available seat, sitting down in it. 

"So you're Jonathon?"

He turned to the boy who'd just sneered at him a moment ago. He thought he'd seen him before - but where? The common room. He was one of the ones sitting in a noisy group in the corner that looked like they were their own exclusive club. People had given them a wide berth, and those who went over either confidently approached like they belonged there, as if they owned to world, or timidly walked forward, trepidation clear in their steps. There was no in between. 

And he had been sitting there, in the middle of it all, loud, but not the loudest; although everyone in the group listening when he spoke. The leader. Clearly.

"Yeah. I am."

"Humph," he said turning away. And then under his breath, that no-one normal could've heard it.

"What's so special about him? Albino fucker."

Jonathon stiffened, about to say something - and then almost bit his tongue. In this world, he shouldn't have heard that. What had done to deserve that? He'd only nearly sat in his seat. 

Oh well. Nothing to it really. Whatever. He wasn't looking for a fight.

The remnants of the class filed into the room, sitting down as the teacher walked into the room, a petite women with her curly dark brown hair tumbling halfway down her neck. Her eyes were a watery blue and rather pale, but she moved with energy and an air of command that could not be ignored or denied. 

She briefly introduced herself as Mrs Castellanos, briefly interacting with Jonathon before beginning the class. 

"We're going to have that test today," she announced, handing out a section of the Catilinarian Orations. Marcus Tullius Cicero. His father had made him read the entire thing. As a perfect example of betrayal, and the price of failure. Valentine had personally related to it, citing ironically that in some ways it was similar the way he had been undermined by Jocelyn.

He knew this text inside out. Even if he'd hadn't, he could practically translated it there and then, anyway. There had actually been times when he and Valentine had only conversed in Latin, just so that his spell casting would have been improve.

"You have the full hour." She turned to Jonathon. "Please don't worry too much about this. Just do what you can."

A tiny, repressed snigger came from where the boy from earlier was sitting, as if he found the illusion of the predicament amusing.

Jonathon shot a glance in his direction as Mrs Castellanos turned away from him. 

The boy was staring in his direction, his face a mocking mask, lips twisted, the entire structure of his visage bent on insulting him. It was a worthy attempt. A very worthy attempt. But, in all reality, he was a novice. A complete amateur. 

He had nothing on the Downworlders. The curl of werewolf's lips, the baring of a vampire's fangs, the gleam of a warlock's eyes. The subtle mechanics of a faerie's face. And then there were the Nephilim. The way their faces could change from shining joy, to a burning, heavenly rage in an instant, pure, undiluted hatred blazing in their eyes.

And then there was the expressionless coldness on Valentine's face, the sinister, menacing looks on the faces of demons. 

And his own blackened reflection. 

The look he gave him in return (a leaf straight out off Sebastian's book) made the boy recoil slightly, his own expression shattering. He looked around surreptitiously before returning to his paper, shooting one more glare in his direction before turning to start his paper. 

Jonathon looked down at the text in front of him, and began to write, scribbling away effortlessly as his mind recalled the bits of this text that he had remembered, translating the parts that he didn't remember with ease.

The pen scratched out the words in English, barely making a noise as he transcribed his thoughts to paper, only crossing out the words when he thought of a more appropriate translation.

Before he knew it he was done. He looked up at the time. It had taken him all of twenty minutes - and only because of his revisions to what he had written.

Looking around, he noted that no-one else even looked half finished. Oops. It was going to be a long wait. But waiting was something that he could do.

................................................................................

He was out of the class the instant that the bell rang. He went down the corridor, stalking down towards the gate, as the mass of humanity appeared in the corridor, all colours and creeds blending together to form a flowing river of bodies. But he navigated them with ease, people seeming to move out of his way unconsciously. 

Strolling leisurely down the corridor, he emerged into the weak winter sunshine, and headed towards his home.

...........................................................................................................

Jonathon was in the middle of memorising the geographical terms when his phone buzzed. He hadn't bothered to take it off vibrate from when he had been in school. He picked it up with his Shadowhunter speed, going to his previously empty inbox in moments. One message. The first of many, hopefully, although he could scarcely admit that himself.

Nate, of course. There was something about him that Jonathon liked - not that he could put his finger on what it was.

U free? it read.

Yep, he replied.

He put the phone down - and then picked it up again as it began to ring. 

"So how was your first day?"

"Alright. Not as difficult as I thought it might be."

"The novelty will have worn off in about a week. Another week and, you'll be wanting to move on."

"I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"I've been here for a lot longer than you have. I think I'd know," he laughed. 

"We'll see about that. I'd like to make up my own mind."

"I know this is probably too early, but how does the feel of this school compare you to the ones you've been to before?"

Jonathon smirked slightly, remembering the only 'school' had been to. Valentine's School for a Twisted, Amoral Soldier. Regular beatings. Intensive work. No breaks. Being taught to hate everyone and everything.

"It's definitely looking promising. I think I'm going to like it."

They chatted for a bit longer, not really talking about anything significant - until Jonathon remembered the animosity radiating from the boy in Latin class. 

"Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"There was this guy giving me some seriously odd vibes in my Latin class. Blond, brown eyes, reasonably tall, was sitting at the centre of that loud group in the common room."

"Nasty attitude? Gives out sneers that are worthy of a gargoyle?"

More demonic, Jonathon thought. "Yeah, practically."

"That's Harrison. An absolutely lovely person." The sarcasm was evident. "His mother's pretty well off, and he flaunts it. It doesn't help that half of the girls in our year group have had crushes on him, or still do. He's manipulative and pretty much a dick, to be perfectly honest. Those people you see around him are literally his minions. They do whatever he says."

"So basically, he's a dictator?"

"In a way, yeah. It doesn't help that's he's actually pretty intelligent, and good at sports as well. Some teachers love him, others see him for what he is but can't prove anything so they leave him alone. His peons worship him, and everyone else either hates him, or are in complete awe of him."

"You clearly don't like him."

"I really don't. We've had a few run-ins over the years, which haven't really gone well for either of us. So we give each other space. That's generally how it works. The only time we actively interact is when we're doing sports together. But why do you want to know? Does he not like you already?"

"I think he's decided to have a problem with me. Quite possibly a major problem, now that I know a bit more about him. "

"I'm not surprised."

Although he knew that he couldn't see him, Jonathon still raised an eyebrow. 

"Why's that?"

"The girls were buzzing over you. Literally. Some of them have already declared their undying love for you."

"What?"

"I exaggerate. About the undying love part anyway. But they are buzzing about you. Intelligent foreign student who speaks French fluently, and according to them looks like something straight out of a modelling magazine - except better, somehow."

Jonathon was genuinely bewildered. "But I'm not good looking!"

Nate snorted down the phone. "You don't need to be modest with me."

"No, seriously-"

"My phone's been buzzing all day with messages asking about you. Are you dating someone? Do you have an accent? Are you friendly? It's no surprise Harrison doesn't like you. You're stilling his thunder. He's not the hot topic of the year anymore - which is all he wants to be."

"He likes the attention that much?" Jonathon asked, remembering how Sebastian also liked all eyes to be on him. 

"At all times. He does like to be adored."

"I think I'm going to stay well away from him."

"Wise idea."

They chatted a bit more before Jonathon rang off, heading the training room to do some more exercise. He didn't know why he kept on finding himself here. But he did. It was a reassuring somehow. The way his body simply moved smoothly, his muscle memory so flawless that he didn't even have to actively think while he did it. 

All in all, it had been a successful day. To some degree. The faerie, Alyssa, had thrown him a curveball. A faerie in a human school? That didn't like the Courts, and used to be a knight? There was definitely more to this story than she wanted to tell. But she didn't seem like a threat. There was something about what she had said to him that told him she was telling the truth. Alyssa had no interest in him at all - as long as he didn't interfere the life she had built for himself.

Nate seemed nice enough - as well as most of the rest of students. The teachers weren't going to beat him, or try to emotionally traumatise him. The work didn't seem as if it was going to be too difficult over all. Harrison was the only problem for now - and one that he could easily deal with.

Everything was alright. His new start had truly begun.

..............................................................................

"I want him back. I need him once more. I must have him again. He is mine."

"But my Lady-"

"I will have him once more."

"How?"

"He might be changed, but not all changes are irreversible. With him at my side, you can reclaim everything you have lost, as will I. But I will need your assistance in this matter. It will be most invaluable. The two of us working together will surely be able to accomplish more than the two of us separately."

"If we do succeed, we will have the most powerful of allies - one that no-one will be aware of. The perfect ally. Of course, I will be limited in both resources and manoeuvrability. The one who I trusted the most is now dead - but there are others that I can turn to for some assistance."

"Do so. I can provide some aid of my own, but," she laughed, "it will be unpredictable."

Her companion smiled her own little smile. "Sometimes, the element of unpredictability is exactly what is needed."


	11. Success

Tuesday morning dawned bright and early, Jonathon rising with an eagerness that could only be prescribed to small children when they first began school. The eagerness of someone who was excited to start something new, something fresh, the desire and craving for a new experience overwhelming almost everything else.

Yet the sacrament and purity of this would never fully be his. His innocence had been stolen from him long before he was born, and without any kind, stabilising influence in his childhood, the last hope for this was long gone.

But Jonathon thought of none of this, simply happy to be on the second day of a different kind of adventure. His own one. 

He hummed contently as he poured himself a large bowl of cereal, opening the fridge and covering the dry, baked crops in cold milk, adding a large spoonful of honey. He thought about it for but a moment before he added another. He like sugar - and he was in especially good mood, after the success of his first day.

Despite the revelation that there was a faerie at his school, and the fact that he might have already gained an enemy without trying, everything seemed to be skewed in a positive direction for now. 

That pleased him. A lot. A lot more than he cared to admit, or had even envisaged. He wasn't sure whether he should be so enthralled with this entire idea, especially in such a short space of time, but in the end, he didn't really care. 

He just hoped that the second day was just as good as the first.

...................................................................................

Mrs Castellanos stood before her Latin class, fixing them with an icy stare that seemed the bring the room temperature down significantly, turning her head from side to side as she scanned the entire class. 

Then her face softened, eyes relaxing, nearly smiling, but not quite, her visage now steel, rather than diamond. 

"I am pleased that some of you have clearly been revising over the Christmas holidays. On the other hand, some of you," her voice hardened ever so slightly, "have clearly been doing nothing - at all. I will speak with you afterwards, so that we can discuss what needs to be done in order to improve your skills in this subject. Your exams might seem to be months away, but we have barely enough time to finish the syllabus, and fit in revision. But now, onto your marks. I'll start with the top five scores in the class."

As she sorted through the papers, a boy called Matt muttered under his breath. 

"Why bother? We all know that Harrison's gotten the top mark. Always has, always will. He's been learning it since he was nine."

Suddenly, Jonathon didn't want her to read out the test scores. He wasn't sure how the reaction was going to be.

"Zahrah Said and Matt Cairn, seventy out of a hundred."

"Renee Diallo, seventy-three out of a hundred."

She paused for a moment, looking around at the class.

"Eighty-one out of hundred - Harrison Evefield.

A collective mumble burst out of the class. Harrison never came second. Never. Ever. Not in Latin at least. He was the best at Latin in the entire school - better than the Year Thirteen's, better than the only other teacher who could teach Latin.

Well, until now at least.

"Jonathon."

He looked up, as the class looked around at him, their eyes curious, gazing at the mysterious, attractive foreign student that had just arrived the day before.

"You said you were good at Latin."

Jonathon shrugged slightly, mildly he hoped. "I do have some experience with it."

"Experience?" Mrs Castellanos. "Well, whatever experience you have, I have to commend both you teacher, and your hard work. I was initially worried that you might have problems catching up with the rest of the class." She gave him the almost smile again. "I now see that those worries were completely unfounded."

"Jonathon Morgenstern." 

"A hundred out of hundred. Perfect translation, if I do say so myself. You not only captured the meaning, but also the emotion behind the piece, the motivation driving it forward. Well done." 

The class was perfect silent for a moment, and then the whispers began as she began to hand out the rest of the papers, distributing them with a speed and efficiency that simply had to be beheld before it could be believed. Faces turned to him, and turned away, some with awe, some amused, some smiling, some looking slightly jealous.

But there was only one face he need to see. Jonathon had an good idea of what it might look like, but he needed to see it anyway, just to ensure what he sort of already knew anyway. There were different types of dislike - and he had seen and known most of them as Sebastian. Most initial dislikes were fleeting, knee jerk reactions to new people that seemed illogical once the parties were more than acquaintances.

But then there the few who saw someone, hated them - and then found reasons to compound their hatred at a later date.

Harrison's face was contorted with something that looked like jealousy, rage and slight despair. 

The look of a someone who had just had their carefully constructed world had just been turned upside down. Or, more accurately, he thought, someone who just had spotlight stolen from him.

If only he knew what Jonathon had been through to achieve the level of command he had over all the languages his knew. That would've been more than enough to wipe that ridiculous look off of his face.

He turned away, still feeling Harrison's eyes on him, trying to burn a hole through his body. Jonathon wanted to laugh.

He didn't care.

............................................................................................

Nate met him at the start of lunchtime.

"Second day?" 

"Fine so far. Full marks on a Latin test."

"That must've upset Harrison."

"Severely. He looked like he was-" He broke off. 

He was going to be 'poisoned by a Raum demon', and had just realised that would only make sense to someone in the Shadow World, and even then, only mean something to a warlock or Nephilim.

"Like?" Nate prompted, wanting to hear the end of the sentence. 

"-like he had a stroke," Jonathon hastily covered, remembered something he had seen on that show. Clarity? Calamity? No, Casualty.

"Sounds about right. You coming to play football with after school? You look like an athlete - and we could always use another body."

Jonathon froze slightly. Ah. 

"How do I put this..." he said, as they walked."I have no idea how to play football. And I don't have a change of clothes. So, I'll have to say no."

Nate stopped dead, looking at him in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm not."

"You must've played football at least once. Everyone has. Even people who don't like it. Or understand it. You're European!"

"It's just one of those things, I guess." His father hadn't seen the point of teaching him anything about mundane sports, or their past time in general for that matter. He had seen a football game once or twice, but hadn't paid enough attention to pick up the rules. All he knew was that you could only use your feet, and that the ball had to end up in the opposing team's net. There was something about tackling, fouls and that offside rule that no-one could seem to agree on. 

Nate shook his head. "Well, it's about time you learnt how to play. I've got a extra change of clothes, so that can't be your excuse, if you want to join in. Or, you stand on the sidelines and watch. Either way, your education in the beautiful game begins today."

Jonathon thought for moment. "Where would I play, if I was going to?"

"Hmm. You can't dribble-

"What?"

"-you probably can't pass, and you can't score... So you'd have to be the goalkeeper. The goalie."

"So all I have to do is stop the ball from getting into the net, right?"

"You need to stop it from crossing the white line at the front of the net. But it's not as easy as it sounds. You can use your hands, but only inside the penalty area - the painted white box around the goal."

"It doesn't sound too complicated."

Nate looked amused. "When a football's flying in your direction, it might get a little more complicated than you might think. Do you want me to explain the rest of rules while we're here?"

"You might as well. It'd be good to know what I've just gotten myself into."

"Well, let's just begin with all the positions people can play and we'll go from there. You have a lot to learn."

..................................................................................

Looking down at what he was wearing, Jonathon was surprised that he didn't feel colder. He was wearing a t-shirt and pair of shorts, both of which were slightly oversized, but not so much that it was irritating or cumbersome. It made his arms and legs looked more slender than even he thought possible. His glamour made his scars invisible to everyone else - except for Alyssa, who gave them the once over before looking away. 

People floated over to field, the two teams gathering in rough groups at opposite ends of the pitch. 

Nate introduced Chris to the team, who greeted him with friendly punches, jostling him around a bit. 

"Right, Jonathon's going to be in goal. He's a bit green - but we all have to start somewhere, so try to forgive him if he lets a goal in. Harrison's not here, so the other team won't be as aggressive as they normally are, so we should have a reasonably peaceful game-"

A commotion at the other end of the pitch made them all look over - to see Harrison running towards the other team.

"Great," Matt said. "So much for a peaceful game."

"Why's he here?" Raul asked. "Wasn't he going to some event in Mayfair or something upmarket like that?"

"He was," Nate frowned. "Why would he miss it just for this?"

"Jonathon wiped the floor with him in the Latin exam," Matt said offhandedly. 

"What?"

"Harrison got eighty one. Jonathon got full marks."

All of the team members turned to look at him. Jonathon shrugged. He'd have been disappointed if he had gotten anything less. He knew that particular text inside out. It didn't seem like it was a big deal. 

"That explains everything. Harrison can't bear to lose. You've beaten him at something - now he has to beat you at something."

Jonathon didn't quite know what to think. What drove this guy to such lengths that he could be so immature?

"It doesn't matter," Nate said. "Just expect a harder game. And some seriously foul play."

"Is Harrison that bad an influence?"

"You have to see it to believe it."

...................................................................................

Jonathon stood in goal, watching the pitch. They were only twenty minutes into the game, and he beginning to understand football. He'd always been a quick study, and if he simply applied battlefield tactics to the game, it became slightly easier to understand. Obviously, it was slightly different - no-one would be dying, and there would be no bloodshed. 

But it seemed like that might be at this rate.

Football wasn't a gentle game, by any standards, but the opposing side seemed to be intent on getting control of the ball by any means necessary. 

Kicks flew, and there were some harsh challenges by the other side, ending up with people sprawling on the ground, rolling over as they crashed down. But they got up, brushing it off with a rolling shrug of their shoulders.

Despite this, Nate's team had managed to aim a few shots at the opposing goal, and managed to get one in. But so far, no-one had attacked their goal. 

But that was about to change.

A shout caught his attention. 

The ball was moving up the pitch towards the goal. Jonathon readied himself as it approached, not overly worried, as it hadn't made it past the defenders yet. But he hadn't counted on Harrison.

As one of the defenders went to intercept, Harrison charged in shoving the boy aside, and stealing the ball, weaving his way around another, leaving nothing in between the goal and the ball.

Except for Jonathon. 

A vicious look marred his otherwise reasonably good looking face as he pounded his way up the pitch.

"You might have beaten me in Latin, but there's no way you best me here, you albino fucker."

He turned his body sidewise angling for the left side of the net. Jonathon moved in that direction, hoping to intercept the ball. 

But Harrison twisted round, dancing on his feet, kicking the ball with all the frustration he felt in the opposite direction. 

It was a clever shot, designed to throw off any goalkeeper. And it would've worked, too. Against a normal goalie.

Jonathon was anything but. 

The angel blood in his veins seemed to sing as he wheeled round, and dived, rolling before coming up to perfectly catch the ball in between his two hands.

Harrison looked at him with something that bordered on disbelief.

"What are you? That's not possible-"

"You really want to know?" he said, standing up looking at him dead in the eye, green and brown locked into each other, the two of them the only people in the world for that short moment in time.

"Better than you."

.........................................................................................

The game was a complete route. The final score 4-0 - to Nate's team. The final whistle blew on the ninety minute game. There had been a few more attempts on Jonathon goalkeeper integrity, but none managed to get through. Years of training with Valentine, along with demon slaying and fights with Shadowhunter really paid off - even if he wasn't quite what he used to be. He knew it was slightly unfair - but hey, he hadn't asked to born a Shadowhunter.

As his team congratulated him, saying that he was going to have to join their team permanently, he glanced around. Alyssa stood on the sidelines, watching, staring at him with a bemused expression, an eyebrow raised. He raised both of his in return, and then felt the glare on him, the fierce, angry expression that he knew he would see.

He didn't even bother to turn around.


	12. Doubt

"So which Court are you from?"

Does that matter?"

"Not really."

"Then why ask?"

"Because..."

"Because?"

"Why are you making this so difficult?"

"Because I'm not sure if I like you or not."

Jonathon was confused. "What did I do deserve that?"

"Nothing yet."

"Then what...?"

Alyssa placed her pen down, her glamour fading (in his eyes, at least), so that her silver and white eyes seemed to shine, the dark green making them stand out, her skin and hair glowing in the light. They were in a quiet corner of the library, which was surprisingly empty, where Alyssa was working on a length biology question, while he was scribbling away at a Philosophy question that had particularly caught his fancy. 

It had been about four weeks since his first day there, and Jonathon was thoroughly enjoying himself. Nate had been correct about the novelty wearing off - there was far too much work for it to stay - but in the end, it didn't really matter. It was still better than he ever thought he it would be. 

He'd made friends, and was being invited everywhere and anywhere. His previously empty social calendar was now overflowing with appointments. He'd been told to get onto Facebook and Myspace - and hadn't bother to. It was one thing to walk past security cameras. It was another to have a entire virtual profile for yourself that virtually anyone could access. Although Shadowhunters and technology didn't mix, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Nevertheless, everything was going well. Except for one thing. 

Alyssa hadn't taken to kindly to him. 

It wasn't that she openly disliked him. But she certainly had made no attempt to get on with him after their initial conversation. She shrugged him off with careless disregard, fending off all his attempts at conversations with offhanded comments and silence. 

But today, for some reason, he wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery. He could sort of guess why, but if there was one thing that his time as Sebastian had taught him, it was good to find out exactly what was going on before jumping to conclusions. 

"Then what?" he repeated again, ignoring the look she gave him.

"Why are you so persistent?" 

"I've only asked you twice."

"In general, I mean. Why do you keep trying to talk to me?"

Well, you're friends with Nate, and I'm now friends with Nate. We see each other all the time. Why shouldn't we speak?"

"Well, considering the fact that you're a ex mass murderer..."

"That's not funny."

"But it's true. Isn't it?"

Jonathon glared at her slightly. "That wasn't me. That person that did all of those things is gone." 

"How should I know? People don't just change overnight. They don't just undergo radical changes in personality and desires in just a matter of minutes, or even days."

"Not everyone has the blood of a Greater Demon pumping through their veins from before their mother actually gave birth to them. Your perspective changes drastically after you've been stabbed with a sword that burns it out of your veins."

"But all that he inflicted on others has been inherited by you. That's all you know. That's all you've ever accomplished. Destruction and death."

"Considering the fact that I haven't tried to kill Harrison yet, I think that you'll find that you can't really justify those statements."

"Sparing the life of one irritating mundane is not indicative of a change of heart. A restraint of your true desires possibly, but not reformation of character. You could snap his neck with a twist of hands, or break his ribcage with a swing of your legs, stabbing his bones into his lungs and heart. Simply resisting these things does not make you a new person."

"Sebastian would have done that. I'm Jonathon. I don't do that anymore. I don't want to burn the world - I want to live in it."

"Hmm. A Shadowhunter living with mundanes? I wonder how long that can last for. How before you remember the arrogance that permeates the very heart of every child of the Nephilim, the hubris that because the blood of an angel - and not even one of the archangels mind you - runs through your veins, you are somehow better than any other life form on the planet?"

Jonathon had nothing to say. He couldn't really argue with that one. And between him and his father, they had been amongst the most arrogant of the arrogant.

"See how easy it is to silence you? Those of us whom you call Downworlders can leave the Shadow World to some degree, and not return to it unless we chose to. Nephilim on the other hand, are never free. You are the son of two of the most interesting Nephilim of all time - Valentine Morgenstern and Jocelyn Fairchild. You are the brother of Clarissa Morgenstern, and the effectively the brother of Jonathon Herondale. How can you resist the call of the world that effectively bound you to it?"

"Because I can't be a part of it there."

He glared at her openly now, enraged. 

"I can't go back. The Shadow World despises me. And with good reason. But I'm not that person anymore. I would've loved to start again the in Shadow World, but who would've trusted me? Who would've cared about me? Who would've even accepted me? Not a soul. So I had to move on to the only other place I could live - the mundane world. I came here, looking for a new start. Trying to move from the life I never got a chance to live. If you want to judge me by my past - a past I didn't have a choice about, then fine. But don't try to imply that I'm the same person that killed Shadowhunters, children and adult alike, that killed over hundred werewolves and burnt the Praetor Lupus to the ground. I'm not him. I never will be again."

She regarded him, her gaze almost mocking him with its intensity. 

He shook his head in disgust, and packed up his things. 

"Tell Nate that something came up," he said coldly, and strolled off, her words still ringing in his mind. 

................................................................................

His spirits were dampened for the rest of the day. Although it was good day overall, it was overshadowed by the accusations and jibes that Alyssa had made about him earlier on.

The horrors he had created, experienced and witnessed would haunt him forever. He wasn't delusional enough to believe he'd ever forget them, or be able to prevent them from making him twinge with guilt ever so now and again. 

But were they really so bad that he couldn't be seen as anything different by anyone who knew about what he had done as Sebastian? Was he really fated to head back down that path?

He managed to keep the semblance of happiness on his face for the entire day, still laughing and joking with everyone, while keeping his distance from Alyssa, and by proxy, Nate as well. He didn't want to see the that reminder of the Shadow World that he both loathed and loved staring back at him with cold disregard, analysing him, try to distinguish if there was any difference between the infamous Sebastian Morgenstern and the ghost that was Jonathon Morgenstern. 

By the end of the day, he was in a positively foul mood, although the acting skills he had been gifted with played an excellent part in keeping the smile on his face. He didn't even let the act fall when Harrison shouted comments after him, responding with his usual pithy, cutting remarks that were worthy of-

Worthy of Sebastian, he thought, completely dismayed. He resisted the sudden urge to slam his fist into a window he passed on the way out, strolling towards the gate that would take him out onto the street, that would eventually take him home. 

Home. The word still made him smile. He still hadn't gotten over the way it made him feel. A sense of pride, a sense of ownership, things he was becoming quite accustomed to.

The street was full of people, students going home, cars picking them up, some just passing by, others simply members of the public simply caught up in the rush as the buses and other vehicles rumbled past.

Jonathon crossed the road casually, resisting the urge to leap over some cars - he wasn't in a very patient mood today. But he kept going, ignoring the resurgence of his doubts, trying to beat them down and away - and surprisingly succeeding to some degree.

He sensed the person before they got to him. He turned, his hands tensing as his reflexes sprung to life, his eyes alert, ready for action.

Alyssa stood behind him, looking at him seemingly amused, or full of disdain - his mind was too destabilised to process it a work out which one it was. He could usually read faces, even those of faeries, but he was too distracted to do so at this particular moment in time.

He was in no mood to be polite, either. Especially to her.

"What the hell do you want?"

"To talk. I thought I wanted us to do that? We're not going to get very far if you're acting like that?"

"It's different when the shoe's on the other foot, isn't it?" he replied at her, trying not sneer.

"Look, I'm here to talk. If you don't want to, that's fine. But know that by the next time I'm probably ready to talk, you'll either be a old man - or dead."

Jonathon grinned at her, all teeth, and no smile. His hand moved out, and he bowed slightly, his palm facing upwards, his arm moving round, indicating the way that he planned to go.

"Shall we?"

She inclined her head, slightly smiling back at him. Their steps were measured and long; she was not a short girl, only a few inches shorter than Jonathon. She walked in stately manner, her steps measured and controlled. The steps of a dancer, an acrobat - or a warrior. She moved fluidly, her muscles powerful and toned, her hair dancing slightly in the light breeze.

They moved in silence for a few moments, Jonathon waiting, Alyssa seemingly content to just not say anything. Eventually, she spoke.

"I apologise for the way that I have been treating you. Your presence reminded me of things I wish I could permanently forget, but in the end there is no excuse for unnecessary rudeness. Particularly when you have done nothing to deserve it."

"It must've been pretty horrible for you to react like that. Want to talk about it?"

"You wouldn't understand."

He gave her a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm Valentine Morgenstern's son. I was Sebastian Morgenstern until several weeks ago. I think I'll understand just fine. Unless your problems are worse than being a mass murderer, and a sadistic, twisted psychopath in a previous life."

She looked back at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "You have no idea."

"Of course not."

"The point is, in the end, is that you have done nothing to me, and therefore, I have no need to dismiss you as I have been. I still see the Shadow World, of course. Sometimes, I even dip into it, just to stay in touch. I rarely visit the courts, and when I do, I'm an unseen wraith in a corner, hidden away from everyone and everything. But it is my choice to interact with that world; my choice to be in it, or stay as far away from it as possible."

"But then you show up. A Shadowhunter. Those curling scars up your arms and your neck, and those few black Runes that will never fade. The grace, the ease with which you move. A child of Raziel, invading in the lovely, private corner that I had built for myself. A closer look, and then I find that you're not just any old Shadowhunter. You're Jonathon Morgenstern. Confirmed to be dead, but manages to show up at the school after the Christmas holiday. One of the major players in the Shadow World, sitting across from me, talking to my best friend. I honestly thought you were Sebastian when I first saw you. I wondered what cruelty and pain you had planned for the school - but there was something about you that simply did not scream demon child. So I didn't kill you as I had planned to."

"You were planning to kill me?" he said incredulously.

"Why wouldn't I? If Sebastian had somehow survived without anyone knowing he had - well, it would've been stupid to simply let him roam free. But you quite clearly weren't him, so... Well, you're still alive. But that didn't mean I had to like you. You were still an unwelcome reminder of something that I didn't want to see unless I had to. And I will admit, I was a little jealous."

"Why?"

"Nate thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. It's always just been me and him. Oh, we both have other friends, but in terms of a deep friendship; just me and him. But the way I saw the two of you interact... it was just like when we met. Something about the other just interesting you so much that you just have to know more. There is no real word for it. Almost as if you two understood each other within a moment of meeting each. I was afraid that you were going to replace me."

"Replace you? I doubt it. I've seen two people so synchronised with each other. And he introduced me to you first. Out of all his friends we met on the first day, he just told me that I had to meet you. That you were amazing, funny... and so many other things. I don't think I could ever replace you."

"What can I say? Nate is the best thing that's happened to me - in a very, very long time. And I am quite a bit older than I look. No, we're not dating before you ask. Everything between us is platonic. We never even tried dating. People have been trying to set us up for years, but we laugh it off."

"You're talkative. For a faerie, I mean."

She stopped, forcing him to stop as well.

"I'm not like most faeries. See you tomorrow."

He realised that they had stopped at a crossing, and that she was heading the other way. But before he could say a word, she was gone, elegantly, calmly strolling across the road without a care. 

Jonathon looked at her, shook his head once, and carried on home.


	13. Catch Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past begins to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

A demon in Central London. Now he'd seen everything. For some reason, it was still surprising.

Jonathon stood with Alyssa, Nate and some other people as they waltzed down one of the many roads that lead off of Oxford Street. One of the tourists shops. Little places that sold Union flags badges with their blue, white and red painted on a metal surface, the material still managing to catch the gleam of the light. Place mats made of cork, elegant teacups and bright, cheery mugs with Queen Elizabeth II's face on them to attract buyers. Glass and metal statuettes of the Houses of Parliament, separate from the ones of Big Ben, posing next to toy models of black cabs and red buses. T-shirts featuring everything stereotypically were hung up from floor to ceiling covering an entire wall. 

Altogether, a normal tourist shop.

Except for the owner. 

A Vetis demon. That brought back memories. Memories of the time when he, Jace and Clary had gone to buy the piece of untouched adamas that had become the Infernal Cup. A menacing dark chalice filled with power of Lilith, that transformed the holy into the unholy, subjecting them to Sebastian's will.

He sort of understood how Alyssa had felt now. It wasn't fun to be reminded of things that you wished you could carve out your memory with a very sharp knife - especially when the memories were painful.

He glanced over at her. They had stepped in here - actually why had they stepped in here? It wasn't as if they were tourists. 

His train of thought snapped back to her as she moved again. It was two weeks after they had spoken, and she had warmed to him quite rapidly, now that they had aired out whatever had stood between them. 

They got quite well, the three of them, forming a trio so swiftly that even he was surprised. Their personalities meshed together, each of them balancing out and complimenting the others. 

It was great. Almost enough to ignore the Vetis demon that was sitting behind the counter. He wasn't at risk of being noticed. His was wearing a long-sleeved polo neck, which pretty much hid all of his scars, so he was unlikely to be noticed. But Alyssa's glamour could be seen through, if the demon looked hard enough. But he didn't seem to notice.

"You finished in here?" Nate called over to him. 

"I didn't get started. You ready to go?"

"Pretty much. Alyssa, you done?"

"Yeah. Just marvelling at the fact that anyone even bothers to buy this stuff. It's all crap. And less expensive if you actually that a look around London."

Jonathon and Nate laughed. "Hold back, why don't you?" Nate said. 

She half grinned at him, a sweet expression. "I can't help telling the truth."

Jonathon laughed again, and she glanced at him, the smile widening ever so slightly. Nate was looking at them bemused, wondering why they were laughing. Despite their mutual absence from and distaste for the Shadow World, it was nice to have an inside joke once in a while. 

But somehow, even if she could lie, he didn't think that she would. It didn't seem to suit her personality. She could be as subtle and evasive as any other of the Fey Folk; but it didn't fit Alyssa. Her straightforward, sometimes harsh truths were certainly more her forte. 

Alyssa and Nate were ahead of him, reaching the exit of the shop when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked behind him, and spun around and jumped back his hand going to the back of his belt, where his seraph blade was hidden, as well as the runed knife that he had as well.

There were just some habits that couldn't be broken. 

The Vetis demon stared at him, curiously. 

"Do I know you?"

"I shouldn't think so. I've never been in here before."

"You remind me of someone. Someone very important... but I cannot remember who. What is your name?"

"I'm no-one you know. Excuse me."

But before he could move, the demon reared back in surprise, his eyes flaring, glowing filling with something that it couldn't quite read. Demon expression were not something he was really familiar with, even if he had spent a lot of time talking to them. 

"Morgenstern...! Morgenstern! Must tell! Must tell!"

His glamour faded the magic peeling away to reveal the thin and long arms, the eel heads hissing, their teeth snapping. Shark grey scales covered the demon's body, his ruby red eyes shining, the teeth in his mouth looking akin to a forest that had been blown up, the canines and incisors the leftover remains of the tree trunks. 

His arms whipped out heading towards the walls - but not before Jonathon had dropped his shopping bags, removed the seraph blade from his belt and slammed it into the demon's heart. It disappeared with a quiet wail, the unnatural entity dissolving back from whatever godforsaken dimension it had come from. 

He stood there for a moment, his blood and body singing as Raziel's blood hummed through him, his body frozen in place as he tried to process what had just happened. But then his training kicked in, and he wheeled around, hoping that no-one had seen what had just happened. 

Fortunately, his friends were both outside, and there were no cameras in the shop - as far as he could tell. But he need to be safe rather than sorry. His new life was just getting started, and there was no way he was going to give it up so soon. 

"John? You coming?" Nate's head poked through the door of the shop. He turned around, forcing a neutral look onto his face.

"Go on ahead. I'll catch up in a minute. There's just something I want to look at for my sister," he lied, almost wincing at how easy it was to pull it off. "I'll literally just be a minute or two."

"You don't want us to wait?"

"I'll be fine. Which shop are you going to next?"

"The clothes one a couple of doors down. Alyssa saw a coat she liked in there about a week ago."

"Alright, I'll see you there." 

The door closed near silently, and Jonathon spun round, taking his stele out of his pocket. He marched over to the back of the store, and drew an unlocking rune on the door, hearing the little click as it opened. He went in cautiously, ready for anything at this point. The back room of the shop was small and dingy, full of shiny items, ranging from exquisite jewellery to inexpensive junk that was strewn on the floor. Other, slightly darker items were displayed on the shelves that lined the wall, reminders of his previous life. 

Never one to waste an opportunity, he collected the jewellery and the other valuables, dropping them into one of his shopping bags. Valentine's money wouldn't last forever - a long time, certainly, but nothing was eternal. Holding his stele up his began to draw symbols on the wall, trying to ignore the feeling of unease that he had was creeping up on him caressing his shoulders. He went out of the main store, drawing symbols with his stele on each of the shop walls. 

Eventually reaching the front of the door, he sighed, unwilling to do what he knew he had to do, will being resigned to the fact that it was necessary. He extended his left hand in front of him, whispering words in a language that was not meant to be spoken on earth. Flames sprang up in the centre of his palm, little flickering sparks that grew into a miniature inferno shaped like a teardrop, the narrow tip of it sparking. Red flames shot through with dark streaks of purple, sparking and hissing as it connected with the air. 

Demon fire.

He chanted some more, the demon language falling off his tongue with great ease. Jonathon moved his hand away from the flame, and it levitated, suspended in midair, the magic keeping it in place.

Flipping the sign on the door to 'Closed', he walked out of the shop, discreetly drawing a locking rune on the door, and strolled off down the road, hands in his pocket, weapons in his belt, as if he didn't have a care in the world. 

.............................................................................................

Jonathon sat at home, lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He'd just finished his homework, after he had done an intensive workout to quiet his angel blood. His urge to run around and jump about, to do flips and cartwheels in the middle of the street had been almost irresistible. Nate hadn't noticed anything, but Alyssa had been shooting him odd glances, his barely controllable body twitching minutely whenever he forgot to control it. 

He hadn't expected to meet a demon - and not one that would recognise him. Even though he had killed the demon, if any Downworlders, demons or other Shadowhunters arrived at the shop, there would be questions asked. Whether the questions would lead back to him was another question entirely, but he couldn't know what protections, recording devices or spells had were in, or had been placed on the store. A fire would attract attention - mundane attention. By the time the Shadow World got involved, the mundanes would've been all over it, and picked the scene clean, leaving little for them to examine. They would simply assume that a fire had been started, and that the demon had been dissolved into nothingness in the flames.

The runes of the wall had been placed there to prevent the demon fire from spreading, while the fire destroyed and cancelled out the runes, leaving no trace that demon fire had been used, or that there had been runes on the wall to begin with. Everything in the shop would have been aggressively attacked by the fire until the angelic and demonic destroyed each other, leaving normal fire behind. 

A trick that Valentine had taught him.

He had left the fire on a timer for two hours, not wanting to be in the area when the flames began to consume everything. 

Altogether, a perfectly thought out and executed plan. But even so, he wished he didn't have to do it. It harkened back to the time when he was still Sebastian, killing and destroying indiscriminately. But back then, it had been anyone, and anything that he hadn't liked, or that had gotten in his way. This time, it had only been a Vetis demon that had recognised him. If word had gotten out, then his entire life would have been crashing and burning in a matter of hours. News in the Shadow World travelled remarkably fast, and with him coming back from the dead once, they would put nothing past him. 

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

The ringing of his phone jolted him out of the unhappy place he was settling into. 

Not bothering to look at the screen, he answered it, holding it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey. So what happened today?"

Jonathon smiled down the phone at her. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Not when you're practically forcing yourself to stay still. You looked so juiced up - like you'd been struck by lightning or something. Was it something to do with that demon in the shop? You were a little while longer than I would've expected." 

"Well, let's just say I ran in a spot of bother. Nothing too serious."

But she wasn't letting him off that easily. 

"Explain. Now."

So Jonathon told her what happened, knowing that if he didn't now, she'd get it out of him sooner or later - and later would certainly be far more harrowing. 

Alyssa was silent for while. 

"Well, that's exactly what I would've done - if I had your knowledge and resources. An unexplainable fire is much less suspicious than an empty shop. And with the mundanes sullying the scene, you've really covered your bases."

"It's not hard when you know how to do it. I spent most of life covering up messes and problems - after causing them."

"Sebastian was really a piece of work, wasn't he?"

"He really couldn't off been anything else. Valentine made him hate everything and everyone before he knew any different. The demon blood just made it worse. But it doesn't matter now. I just need to make sure that I keep a low profile."

"Mmm. I'll go down to the courts today. See if there are any rumours about what happened. And maybe spread some of my own. Might drop in the vampire and werewolf haunts as well, see what the streets are saying. I have to stop by there anyway, so it won't be much of a problem."

"Thanks," Jonathon said, feeling strangely - was it disappointment? He thought so. But he didn't quite know. There was, once again, far too much going on in his head for him to think clearly. 

And his blood was still singing. Less opera, and more smooth jazz, but it was still singing. Calling to him to run and jump, to flip and dive, to do all those things he knew he should have no longer any reason to do. 

"No problem. It'll be easy. You know that gossip in the Shadow World spreads like wildfire. I think Isambard Brunel High School would miss you if you were gone. Especially the sports teams. How many are you on now?"

"I think I'd be easier to count the ones I'm not on."

"You don't have to join all of them you know. You can say no."

"I don't want to. It's great to just be..." his voice trailed off. 

"Part of something?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"You sound so mushy. It's almost disgusting."

"Almost?" he teased. "What's stopping it from going all the way?"

"Maybe the fact that you were previously insane and devastatingly evil. Strangely enough, it redeems you in this situation."

"That's about the only positive thing that he's done."

"True. Well, time's a wasting, so I'm off. See you tomorrow."

"See ya."

And with a click, she hung up.


	14. Let Them In

"How goes the search on your end?"

"Not as well as I would've hoped. I was sure that someone would've noticed him by now. I have eyes and ears all over the world, but there is nothing particularly notable, which is surprising considering the fact that his features are quite unique. "

"My children have combed the shadows, but there is no sign of him anywhere. At all."

"Are you sure he is still alive? I thought all of the demon blood had been burnt out of him. Would that not have killed him?"

"It has been. His birthright, burnt out his veins by that Nephilim scum. The same scum that weakened me. I will tear them to pieces when I am restored to my full might. But he is still alive. That, I am sure of. I cannot find him, but I am linked to him - by the faintest of threads." She smiled. "He cannot escape me so easily. We will keep searching. This game may prove to be a long one - but I am sure that we can wait him out. He will surface eventually."

"We will be waiting, of course. Then...?"

"Then?"

"What are your plans for him?"

The room seemed to darkened, the light being sucked into the point from which the voice came from. 

"I will make him mine again. As he was always meant to be. Forevermore."

........................................................................................

Alyssa pulled him to the side two days after they had been shopping. It was just before school, and she had told him to come in slightly early so that she could talk to him with little or no chance of interruption. 

"Done the rounds. There's no word of anything on the streets - they're all just calling it an unfortunate accident. The Nephilim aren't informed at all - apparently they didn't even know that there was a demon owned shop there.

"How would they miss that?"

"They're not know for associating with mundanes. And we Downworlders need a port of call to go to if they need to do under the table business. Anyway, with all that's been going on, I doubt they'd have even cared. But I'd still say that you need to keep you head down. I don't want the aftermath of the Dark War spilling over here." 

"The Dark War?"

"That's what they call it. The Dark War. When the children of Raziel fought the children of Lilith. The Nephilim against the Endarkened. And the faeries as well. Apparently, your people have passed a decree saying that no faerie is allowed to bear arms any longer, without permission of the Clave."

"That's funny. There's no way either of courts will take that lying down."

"Not in the slightest. And who are the Clave to tell all faeries that they cannot carry weapons? We are the older than the Nephilim, older than the Children of the Night, older than the Children of the Moon. If the Clave think that this solves anything, then they are more foolish than I first thought. It will simply lead to more trouble."

"I don't suppose your opinion of them was high to begin with."

"Not all."

Jonathon rolled his eyes. Alyssa didn't have a high opinion of anyone. At all. Students, teachers, celebrities... No one was safe from her disapproval. As a side effect of her inability to lie, she was known as the someone who told the truth - without hesitation or remorse. People who couldn't handle her straight talking avoided her at all cost, not wanting to be exposed for what they really were.

The truth really did hurt sometimes.

"Anyway, that's that sorted. Now you can focus on what's important."

"Which is...?"

"Your exams. Trying not to get killed by Harrison. He really hates you, you know."

"I've heard. He keeps threatening to have me beaten to pulp. Or that he'll do it himself."

"I would pay to see that."

"How much?"

She pretended to be in deep thought, her infamous half smile crossing her face. 

"£1 if I'm high on faerie drugs. 50p if I'm not, and feeling generous."

"You're so kind."

"I know."

......................................................................................

It was simply another day at school, stressful in some respects, but perfectly reasonable in all others. The workload was really beginning to pile up, but Jonathon had long since caught up to where he needed to be, pleasantly surprising all of his teachers. He was at the top, or near the top of all of his classes. People liked him well enough; he had friends in all of his classes, and his teachers liked him well enough. 

Latin was actually quite boring now. There was nothing to challenge him anymore, and Mrs Castellanos had given up trying to stump him, effectively making him the assistant teacher of the class. He still took the tests - and no-one even bothered to ask him what he got anymore. Full marks. Every time.

But at least he had to work at the others. Then there were the afterschool clubs, and the sporting events, and everything else. It was all going well. Even Harrison and his cronies fitted into his world, as a mildly unwelcoming source of amusement. 

Jonathon had never been happier. This was what he wanted.

Exactly what he wanted. 

 

....................................................................................... 

Lunchtime was its usual affair. Food, chatting, laughter, groans at the terrible jokes that fell flat. They sat in the common room, lounging around as they discussed everything and anything. But today was all about the music. Alyssa and Nate had nearly had heart failure when they realised how woefully behind he was on the music scene.

"Kelly Clarkson? Beyoncé? Maroon 5? Britney Spears? Green Day? Rihanna? P!nk? Eminem? Linkin Park? Shakira? The Sugababes? You've never heard of any of them?"

"No."

"Who do you know then?"

"No-one, really."

"Not even the old stuff? The Beatles? Mariah Carey? The Rolling Stones? Whitney Houston?"

"Nope."

Nate had shook his head. "Have you never listened to a radio? Ever? Or have you been living under a rock? Or do you only listen to a certain type of music?"

"I don't really listen to music. At all. My father never really encouraged it."

"Why not?"

"He didn't see it as important." 

"We have a lot of work to do," Nate said to Alyssa, who smiled that half-smile once more. "Your musical education starts today."

But when Nate looked away, he something that looked akin to pity in her eyes. But not quite pity. He wasn't sure that Alyssa knew what pity was. 

"Jonathon!" Someone snapped their fingers in front of his face. 

"What?"

"You were a million miles away. Literally." Matt shook his head. "I want to know how you manage that. 'Cause I can't."

"It's a bad habit," he replied. 

"It isn't. Completely useful in assembly when whoever's talking is just going on and on about something that no-one cares about."

"They're not all bad," Nate argued. "Just ninety five percent of them."

"Make that hundred," Alyssa muttered. "If I have to hear one more lecture on the our responsibility to the school-"

"You'll kill someone," everyone else chorused, bursting into laughter when they saw her face turn into a scowl as they finished her sentence. 

"So what were you saying before we got distracted by Jonathon's drifting off?" 

"We were discussing what we should do next weekend. It's a long one, thanks to Insert Day, so we've got an extra day to recover from whatever we want to do."

"So that mean a long Saturday night?" Matt said eagerly. 

"Yep," replied Nate. "Hopefully extending into the early hours of Sunday morning. Only problem is getting home. I don't think anyone going to come out and collect us at the time we'll be heading home."

"Haven't you gotten your license yet?"

"No, Yi. I only started learning last year - and we've had Christmas, mocks, and everything else. I'm working on it. Anyway, we'll all be drinking, so that's not an option. Unless we want to get arrested. Or die. Most likely the latter." 

"If you're as reckless as you are on the football pitch, it's a definite." Alyssa's voice was dry, almost arid in its tone. 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"So we're going to have to leave earlier than we intended..." Matt mused. 

"It's alright for you and me," Yi said. "My mum doesn't sleep much, so she'll be up for picking me up. And you don't live too far away, so we can drop you off."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Won't be a problem. So it's just you, Alyssa and Jon."

"Wait." Nate looked at Jonathon. "Jon, don't you live in Camden?" 

"Yeah..."

"Would you mind if we stayed over for the night? Do you think your dad would mind?"

Jonathon was frozen for moment. He hadn't had anyone over his house before. He'd been to other people's. He'd been to Nate's, to Matt's to Yi's... not to Alyssa, although that didn't surprise him at all. 

Obviously, something was showing on his face, because Nate backtracked. "Hey, don't worry about it. We can always just-"

"It's okay. I was just thinking that I'll have to ask my dad about it. I'll get back to you this evening."

"Cool."

The conversation moved on, but his mind still remained rooted in the simple question that had been asked. 

....................................................................................

Jonathon was still thinking about it when he got home. Unlocking the door, he deactivated the wards he had left in place, the sense of slight paranoia that had followed him for his entire life still forcing him to keep his guard up. The Vetis demon really hadn't helped. In fact, he'd reactivated a few of the more dangerous ones. 

All bases had to be covered. 

This house was his fortress, as well as his home. One of the first things about a fortress was that it needed to be defended - and it was much easier to defend when no-one knew where it was. The less people that knew where it was, the better. He wasn't out of the woods yet, and although he knew that Alyssa would not be likely to say anything, what about Nate?

He knew nothing of the Shadow World, and although it was nearly impossible that word of anything about him and his home would filter down to anyone important, there was still a risk. Or was he just being extremely, absurdly paranoid and possibly slightly stupid?

He wondered. 

His house was his sanctuary. The only place where he felt absolutely, completely safe - even though in his heart of hearts, the illusion wasn't real. Did he really want to let people in? Was he being too overprotective of a building?

Probably. It was Alyssa and Nate. If he couldn't trust them, then who the hell was he going to trust?

He almost smiled at that. Trust. A word that he'd never thought he would've been using at any time in his life. 

Jonathon hadn't even realised that he had trusted them until now. It was alien to him. Completely alien. He'd respected his father, a healthy respect born of beatings and psychologically manipulation. He'd wanted his sister and adoptive brother to congratulate him, to accept him. His biological mother had been a object of his intense hatred, as had the Clave and the Downworlders. Demons had been tools, nothing more. 

The only person he had had a bond with that was remotely akin to trust was Lilith - and even then, he wasn't sure how much of that was actually trust.

Jonathon almost shuddered at the thought of Lilith being the person he had been closest to. It seemed to be lifetime away, but he knew in reality, it had barely been two months. Two months. A lot of had changed in that short time. 

It was time to allow the changes to continue. 

The phone reached his ear in an instant, the number clicking out as he called the first person that he had ever called friend.

"'Lo?"

"Nate."

"Hey, Jon. Look sorry for asking you about staying over in front of the entire group. Alyssa scolded me for that after school. She said I was putting - and I quote - 'unnecessary pressure and expectations' on you, and that you had just moved to the country and all-"

"It's alright. I was just a bit surprised. My dad said it was okay. As he reminded me, he's going to be travelling again for about a week and half, and he doesn't mind if I have people over. As long as we don't make a mess, or destroy anything, he's fine with it."

"Really? We can stay over?"

"Well..." he said, spinning to story a bit further to make it more viable. "I didn't tell him I that one of you was a girl. I guess he just assumed that you were both guys. I didn't both to correct him."

"The funny thing," Nate added, "is that absolutely nothing is going to happen. To be honest, something would be more likely to happen if there was another guy there."

Jonathon sniggered. "That's so true. I think Alyssa would punch us through a wall if we even suggested anything."

"Or systematically breaks every bone in our arms and legs."

They talked for a bit longer, and then Nate said that he had to go, ringing off with a quick thank you, sounding like his usual, happy self.

Almost as soon as the phone disconnected, it rang again, the sudden ringing almost making him jump with surprise. 

"Nate?"

"Am I a man?"

"Alyssa. Sorry, I was just talking to Nate. I thought it was him again."

"We don't have to stay at your house-"

"It's alright. I've green lighted it. The risk to security is minimal. And I trust you and Nate."

She was silent for a moment. 

"If you're sure."

"I am."

"Okay. See you later. I'm looking forward to seeing you dance."

Before he could say anything the phone beeped again, the dial tone buzzing in his ear, like a hornet, incessant and slightly monotone.

I'm looking forward to seeing you dance.

Why was such a simple sentence so interesting to him?

Probably because it sounded like a challenge.

Two warriors dancing together. 

He was looking forward to that.


	15. Party

"You ready, Jon?" 

"I'm coming!" he yelled down the stairs, finding it strange that he was actually talking to someone in his own house. It was an odd feeling; and yet it was refreshing at the same time. 

He looked at himself in the full length mirror that was fastened to the wall. He was dressed in blue jeans, and a long-sleeved white t-shirt that suited him in ways that he didn't even have words for. His hair was simply swept to one side, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. He picked up his dark black coat and put it on, slipping his feet into some comfortable, and yet stylish shoes that would be easy to move about in. 

Jonathon spun a little circle, looking at himself from head to toe. He hoped he looked as good as he thought he did. 

Picking up his stele, he placed a glamour on the seraph blade that he was taking with him, sliding into the sheath that he fastened to his belt. It was a special one that he had reinforced with some magic that the Clave didn't know - and probably never would. He didn't want to carry too many weapons with him tonight, but he couldn't be stupid enough to go out unarmed. 

He slid the stele into sheath next to the blade, and walked out of his room, bounding down the stairs lightly, going to kitchen where they were waiting.

Jonathon couldn't help but smile as he past the training room. The door was locked, of course - other than Alyssa, no one could ever see the contents of that room. He dreaded to think what their reaction would be.

He waltzed into the kitchen, as Alyssa and Nate lounged on the chairs. 

"You have a nice house," Nate said. He was dressed in black and white, his cornrows freshly done, a small silver chain fastened around his neck. Simple, classy and elegant. 

Alyssa had her hair down, flowing freely down her back, held back from face by a series of beautiful golden clips, the hair flittering between jet black and blue-black. Her dress was dark blue velvet, curling golden patterns of leafy vines running up and down it, matching the high heels that she wore on her feet, a slightly different shade to her skin. 

In Jonathon's eyes, she flickered in between her real self and the illusion of how he would look if she was human. 

She was gorgeous either way. 

Her eyes met his. "You look great," he said. 

She shrugged. "Nate forced me to dress up. Said that I wasn't going to embarrass the rest of us by going something that looked like it got dragged through an abandoned quarry in the middle of winter."

"That was putting it politely," Nate deadpanned. "Very politely."

"I don't like getting dressed up. At all. It's so boring."

"Yeah, but they're not going to let us into the club if you go looking like a builder after a long day."

"So I need to go looking like two-bit call girl instead?"

"No. They don't wear blue velvet." He paused, a grin appearing on his face. "That's what the madams do."

She swiped at him, and he dodged, nearly falling of his chair in the process. 

Jonathon rolled his eyes. "Are we leaving then?"

"Yep. Matt and Yi are going to meet us there," Nate said, standing up, and walking towards the front door, as Alyssa did the same thing. He stood aside letting her pass.

"After you, madam."

And then Jonathon leaning against the wall laughing, as Alyssa chased Nate round the kitchen, surprisingly nimble in her heels, eventually catching up to him, a giving him a good clout around the head. But they were all laughing as she did it, and continued to as they finally got to the front door, Jonathon subtly activating his wards as they left.

It was going to be a good night.

.......................................................................................

They met Yi and Matt in front of the club, and were soon in line. The queue moved swiftly enough, all of them flashing ID at the security guards (in Jonathon's case, a glamoured bank card) and were waved through swiftly.

They emerged onto a raised platform, overlooking an enormous dance floor where a seething mass of humanity partied the night away. On a Friday night, it would be full. Tonight, it was packed beyond belief. Exactly how Jonathon wanted it. A crowd to get lost in. 

Alyssa had assured him that this was not a Shadow World favourite, but it was better to safe than sorry. He wanted to just let his hair down, and leave the worries that haunted him behind, if even for a short while. 

R'n'b and pop remixes pounded through the hair, physical blows that sent tingles down his spine, making him want to move to the rhythms that called to him - a siren song that was almost spellbinding. The entire room was tantalising, the night calling to him with its own unique cry. It wasn't the first time that he'd been to a club. But this was the first time that he was going there just to party.

More importantly, the first time he was going with friends. 

They headed over to the cloakroom, depositing their coats and bags as quickly as possible. 

"Drinks!" Matt yelled over the beat and the off key singing. 

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Jonathon and Nate led the way, weaving and pushing their way through the crowd so that they could get to the bar. Elbowing their way to a bartender, they ordered triples, all of them downing them with yells, the alcohol burning their stomachs as it scorched their way down their throats.

At an unseen gesture they placed the glasses back on the counter, and spying a small space on the dance floor, forced their way through the gap - and began to dance. 

Jonathon just let himself go with the flow, letting his body just take over, the alcohol not really acting on him, his Shadowhunter metabolism absorbing the booze and burning through it. 

It turned out that warriors made excellent dancers. 

Actually, they made spectacular dancers. 

His body simply responded to the beat, allowing him to sway and move in time, completely enjoying and loving the complete release from the restrains of normality. His arms moved of their own volition, his hips, legs and torso swaying, loving every second of it. Yi was stumbling slightly, the alcohol beginning to take its toll, her cheeks flushed slightly red. Matt was farther down the line, his arms wind milling slightly, enjoying himself without any thought of the outside world. 

Alyssa had command of her own space, her eyes closed, the invisible aura that surrounded her keeping people slightly away from her, so she could weave and move with the fluid grace of the Fair Folk, the warrior in her adding something to it that made it more natural, more raw - more seductive. Jonathon saw the eyes of boys and girls around the club watching her, none of the boys stupid enough to actually come up to her. 

But there was always one. 

A boy swaggered his way over towards her, his friends nodding and fist pumping as he sauntered towards her. He came from the front (fortunately for him) and tried to move in towards her. Alyssa, not missing a beat, moved backward slightly, letting her hands fall in front of her warding him off. 

He still continued to come on, trying to get what he obviously saw as his prize. Alyssa, being Alyssa gave him one more chance, moving herself back again, her entire being still doing something that was so hypnotising that the very air seemed to shimmer around her. 

And yet he still came on to her, hands reaching out to brush her shoulders trying to pull her in close. 

Her eyes snapped open, giving him a glare that would've made a Greater Demon flinch. So fierce, vicious and untamed was the look that transformed her face from angelic serenity to demonic magnificence that the boy actually stumbled backward, retreating swiftly as she leered at him, menacing and beautiful at the same time, an combination that spanned both the holy and the damned. 

He turned away, hastily returning to his friends as her face slipped back into the passive beauty that it had been in moments before, her body loosening as she relaxed. 

Jonathon wanted to laugh. 

He could a glimpse of Nate, dancing with a girl he must've just met in the club. The two of them were face to face, a mere few inches between them, their bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as if they'd never been dancing with anyone else. Yi was now dancing with some guy, and Matt was fighting his way over to the bar to get a drink. 

Everyone was happy, in one way or another.

An arm brushed his shoulder, and he turned to see a girl behind him - tall, dark brown hair, wearing a short red dress, and stiletto heels. Her light brown eyes stared at him, a question in her eyes. 

Why the hell not?

His arms moved of their own accord, his hands resting themselves softly on her waist, as she placed her hands on his shoulders, the two of them finding their rhythm as the music changed again. There was barely any space between them, her eyes roaming over him, a little smile creeping onto her face. She smelled of perfume, his heightened senses picking up the scent of alcohol as well, but not enough to be drunk. 

They were there for a few moments, the time elapsing as they danced together. Jonathon was surprised that he'd found it as easy as he did. This was the first time he'd really been this close to anyone since he wasn't Sebastian. As Sebastian, it had been easy. Seduction and sex had been child's play for him. 

Jonathon wasn't sure how he felt about that aspect of his life yet. There had been a couple of advances from some girls at school, but he had gently rebuffed them, not really feeling any sort of attracting to them. For the others, he was just an object of attraction to look at, something to ogle at and giggle over when they saw him walking by. Nothing particularly spectacular.

But he had decided to relax, and just be a little freer tonight. 

The girl moved in a little closer, the gap between them almost completely disappearing, resting her head on his somewhere between her chest and his shoulders, her hands moving so that they were behind his back. The warmth, and her proximity made him feel... He didn't quite know how it made him feel. 

The music pulsated, the two of them still together, holding the position for about a minute before she tilted her head up to him. Jonathon looked down at her, as her smile got a little wider. She stopped moving and stretched towards him, her eyes closing as her lips approached his. 

Time seemed to freeze - the music seemed to fade, and the light seemed to stretch as she approached. His first kiss as Jonathon. With some random girl in the club.

Alright then.

He leaned down, their lips meeting. Her lips were soft, and tasted of fruit, the slight tang of alcohol,; warm and inviting. They held it for a moment, the two of the suspended in their own little bubble of time. 

It felt good. Really good. 

But strange. 

Their lips parted, and she smiled at him again. Jonathon returned the smile somewhat half heartedly. Not that he didn't appreciate the kiss. It had been good. But for some reason, not exactly what he wanted.

They danced for a few more minutes, swaying in each other's arms, until she broke away from him, holding out her hand. He quickly realised what she wanted, and she tapped her number into his phone. Smiling at him once more, she turned away, leaving him there, heading towards the bar. 

He continued to dance, wondering about what had just happened, his body moving each other by itself as the music changed again. That had been nice. He still wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he was just going to go with it. And then there was another girl, taller, with dark skin, wearing a mid thigh length cream dress. 

He smiled at her too, and reach out to her as she reached out to him.

.......................................................................

Jonathon stood by the bar, taking a little break, standing by the bar, drinking slowly. He danced with quite a few girls tonight - and gotten more numbers than he had even thought possible. He hadn't even come out with that intention, but life was unpredictable like that. 

He could glimpses of his friends here and there. Matt was now dancing with Yi, the two of them completely gone with alcohol and the music, in the middle of a group of drunk dancing people, completely lost in music. Nate was dancing with yet another girl, the two of them close together as he had been with another girl just a few minutes ago. But it was all light hearted, all in good fun, boys meeting girls are they did, the noise, the setting and the alcohol breaking down people's inhibitions. 

Finishing the rest of drink, Jonathon though that he would rest for a little while longer before going back on the dance floor. It's tiring work, he thought, a mixture of wryness and amusement colouring simple phrase. 

Then she was in front of him. 

Her glamour seemed to fade before him her skin turning the colour of orichalcum, the dark blue velvet becoming even more striking. The silver iris, their green rims and the ice cold pupil staring into him, seemingly reading his soul. 

Alyssa's hand reached out to him taking hold of his hand, and dragging him back onto the dance floor, weaving through the crowd back to the spot where she had been previously. Without further ado, she had spun around. Jonathon's hands moved of their own accord, finding themselves around her waist as she placed her hands atop his, moving back so that she was pressed against him. She smelled of faerie, a natural, powerful sweet scent that was both intoxicating and like a shot of caffeine at the same time. Her body was strong and lithe, and pressed up against his he could feel her muscles rippling under her skin. 

He didn't know what was going on. In all honesty, he had no idea at all. 

But he wasn't going to complain.


	16. Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams fdon't always come true.

They stayed together for the rest of night, just dancing with each other as time elapsed into nothingness. Alyssa turned around to face him, never meeting his eyes, never getting as close as some of the other girls, but close enough. 

She felt different from all the others, her body and his in perfect harmony, an ease in the motions that had been there with the others - but nowhere near as familiar and simplistic as was with her. 

Jonathon didn't know what to think. It was as if he had been detached from his body, and now his mind and corporeal form were two separate entities. His body was moving, but his thoughts were on the far side of the galaxy, spinning into a black hole, lost forevermore. All he felt was Alyssa - it was all he knew in those moments, all he could see, all he could sense. 

He was disappointed when the lights came on.

The crowd cheered as the final note fizzled out, all of them stumbling towards the door to go out into the early Sunday morning air, or heading towards the cloakroom to collect their belongings before they headed to wherever else they were going that night, all of the buzzing with good feelings.

He spotted Nate, who was holding up both Yi and Matt, the two of them swaying slightly. He didn't look to stable himself, but he was holding it together. 

"I think we should go and help him."

Alyssa's voice drew him back into his body with a whip-like crack that resounded only in his head. 

He looked down to see her staring at him, her glamour reappearing as she turned back to looking human.

"You can let of me now."

He hadn't even realised he was still holding on. He released her quickly, almost too quickly, just managing to slow down his reaction in time, preventing the blush from rising up his neck and cheek.

She turned away, and strolled over towards their friends, elbowing her way through the masses of people until she got to them. Reaching into the front of Nate's shirt pocket, she fished out their cloakroom ticket, and began to manoeuvre her way through the crowd once more, ignoring all the protests she received from disgruntled patrons, as she used her elbows and heels to force them aside.

Jonathon shook his head, clearing it, and then moved over towards Nate and others, taking charge of the teetering Matt, who was still trying to dance to music that only he could hear. Yi was being held up by Nate, but only so she could actually walk in a straight line. 

"Have you called your mum?" Nate asked her, as they headed towards to door. 

"Yep. She'll-" She hiccupped, breaking off her sentence. "She's coming. She should be here in a few minutes. But," she laughed, a sliding noise punctuated with more hiccups, "you might have to hold me up till then."

"At least you're moving in the right direction," Jonathon muttered, half carrying Matt with him towards the door. The crisp, cool London air greeted them, a gentle slap around the face, their bodies shivering slightly to adjust to the sudden change in temperature. The crowd milled around outside, laughing, crying, some of them sitting on the kerb, their friends looking after them, cars, taxis and even a motorcycle appearing out of the darkness, oversized metallic beetles heralded by their shining eyes, snatching people up and spiriting them away into the maze of streets.

Nate and Jonathon held onto Yi and Matt, ensuring that neither of them ran off anywhere. Alyssa joined them soon after, distributing everyone's belongings to them, their coats taking the chill of the air. 

"She's here," Yi said, seemingly becoming miraculously sober in the space of a second, pushing Nate off gently, as a small black car pulled up to the side of the road. "Help me bring Matt over." 

Alyssa moved forward, taking firm hold of Matt's arm, extracting him from Jonathon's grip while Yi took his other arm, and together they guided him towards the back of the car. In he went, somehow managing to put on his own seatbelt, while Yi closed the door, sliding into the front seat next to her mother, who waved at the other three and pulled off swiftly, heading towards home. 

"You ready to go?" Jonathon asked. 

"Sure," Nate replied. "I might need a hand though."

"If you're not drunk already, I'm sure you'll be alright for the next thirty minutes."

...............................................................................

It turned out he wasn't.

Nate, being Nate didn't get drunk like normal people. His drunkenness was literally a delayed reaction. He'd be alright for a while after his drinks - and then the alcohol would begin to take its toll, all at once, hitting him like a sledgehammer, destroying his usual sensibilities and turning in what Jonathon could only describe as a overly jolly lunatic.

He sang as they walked down the street - mercifully staying in key, actually sounding quite good. Except for the fact that his only audience were his two friends, and anyone else drunk who happened to walk by, who would join if they knew the song, or people coming back from working a night shift, ignoring him completely. They had seen it all before. 

Nate upgraded his antics, clinging onto lampposts, while he sauntered across the road occasionally to speak to inanimate objects when it struck him to do so. 

"Is he always like this when he's drunk?"

"Yep," Alyssa replied. "It's not that bad really. He doesn't try to hurt anyone - he just turns into an idiot. The only problem is when he starts to climb stuff."

"Like now?"

"What-" She looked over, and cursed. "For god's sake, this is why I hate it when he gets drunk. Well, at least you're around this time. Go get him."

"Why me? You're the experienced one." 

"It's time for you to learn. A crash/master course in how to take care of drunk Nate. Hurry up. If he gets any higher on that fence you're going to have to go over and get him."

A few minutes and a lot of talking and cajoling later, Nate was down from the fence, his arm firmly in Jonathon's grasp, his tall friend mildly protesting as he led him down the road. Alyssa watched in amusement, not saying a word, her infamous half smile quirking her lips. 

Why did he always notice that smile?

Eventually they reached his home, and he quietly deactivated the wards on the door, half glad that Nate was drunk - anything that he heard and possibly remember could be dismissed as drunk delusions the next morning. Or afternoon. Or whenever he got up. He wondered how long it would take him to sleep it off. 

Jonathon led Nate upstairs to his father's room, laying him on the bed, taking of his shoes as he continued to sing under his breath. Covering him with a blanket, he left and went to see what Alyssa was doing. 

She was sitting at the table, lounging between two chairs, her bare feet on one, her shoes discarded on the floor, her head tipped back, her eyes closed, seemingly zoned out from the rest of the world.

"Is he alright?" she asked, not opening her eyes as he went over to the tap to get a glass of water. "And I'll have one as well, thanks."

Taking two glasses from the draining board, he filled them with water and went to sit across from her placing one of them on the table in front of her. Opening one eye lazily, she picked up the glass, placing it to her lips as she closed her eyelid once more, gulping down the water slowly and deliberately. 

Jonathon sat opposite her not entirely sure of why he felt so... askew. Normally, he'd have had something to say, but for some reason his brain was running low on conversation.

So they sat there for what could have only been a minute in absolute silence - only it seemed to last for an eternity. He was sure that she wasn't feeling as awkward as he was - but even as he tried to think of something to say, she broke the silence.

"Sorry for keeping you prisoner at the club tonight," she said, her eyes still shut. "I should've let you dance with other people."

He almost stuttered. The simple statement threw him. He hadn't even expected to be so unseated by a sentence. But it did. Fortunately, years of emotion repression and acting came in handy. Valentine had to have been good for something.

"It's alright," he managed to get out. Fortunately, the words were even, in his usual register and tone. 

"No, it isn't. I was just being selfish."

Selfish? That wasn't the words he was expecting to come out of her mouth. But even as the registered, the syllables ringing in his ears, he felt a spark, the golden flame of hope that burned more brightly within him these days flaring as he poured fuel onto it. 

"How come?"

"I don't mind going clubbing. But I don't like the way that boys approach me all the time. It's bothersome."

It was as if he had been pitched into a pool of freezing cold water, dousing the fire to minimal warmth and proportions; from a leaping bonfire to a spluttering matchstick flame in a drizzle. He was just a decoy, a barrier that had been used so that she could enjoy herself without having to worry about guys coming onto her. He was a safe option. Someone she could be with without having to think or worry about it. They were friends after all. 

Just like her and Nate were. Of course. Alyssa hadn't indicated that their relationship was anything different. Considering she knew where he had come from, and what he had done, it was actually still slightly surprising that she accepted him at all. Jonathon knew he should be satisfied with that.

So why wasn't he? 

Why wasn't he just accepting this and moving on? Why did he feel so odd? 

"It's okay. I was getting tired of getting passed around like something at a show and tell."

She snorted. "You should have seen the looks we were getting. The girls seemed intent on setting me on fire with a glare, and guys looked like they wanted to run you over, and then reverse over you with a lorry. But then I caught a few guys glaring at me, as if I was ruining their fantasies. You're quite the popular one." 

Jonathon was about to say that he hadn't noticed any of that. But doing so would've revealed more than he wanted to - so he just shrugged, a calculated motion, that he then realised it was futile. Her eyes were still closed.

"I'm sure they were. Anyway, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. You heading up to my room?"

"No. I'm fine here."

"You can't just sleep in the kitchen! I'm going to sleep in the floor in the where Nate is. You can't sleep here."

"I'm a faerie. A faerie knight. I've been in worse spots before. In comparison, this is comfortable."

"But you aren't in one of those situations now, are you? There's a perfectly good waiting for you upstairs."

"Jonathon-"

"I'm going to sleep now," he said, standing up, suddenly needing to be away from her, unusually frustrated. "But I'm going to be on the floor in the spare room with Nate."

With that, he turned away from her with a calm that he didn't feel, and headed towards the stairs, suddenly longing to fall into the oblivion that sleep bought. 

It was easier than handling what he was feeling right now. 

He padded up the stairs silently, not hearing Alyssa even shift an inch from where she had been sitting. 

Heading straight to where Nate was he started to rearrange the pile of large cushions that he had stacked in the corner of the room earlier on in the day, swiftly creating a makeshift bed on the floor. Stripping off his clothes, and dumping them into messy pile on the floor, he pulled on a pair of shorts, and unfolded the blanket that he had left with the cushions. 

Jonathon lay down, covering himself with the blanket in an elegant gesture. 

He just wanted this day to end.


	17. Oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not fair...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.

Jonathon woke up, slightly disorientated. Why was his room a different colour. Why was his bed so soft? Why was he so low down?

As he slowly woke up, a mumble broke through his slight confusion. Nate's voice.

The memories of the previous night flooded back, some of them gleaming with happiness, others stained with bitter disappointment.

He clamped down on the latter, sealing them away in one of the many compartments of his mind, mentally locking the door on them with a frustration that he hadn't felt-

Since he was Sebastian.

Irritated at himself, he got up quietly, his feet barely making a noise as he drifted across the floor to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Stripping down, he jumped into the shower, enjoying the feeling of the hot water drenching him, distracting him from the things that he didn't want to think about. Fortunately for him, his Shadowhunter metabolism had burnt through the alcohol as if it was an energy drink, leaving him with a mild headache that the water swept away as he massaged his forehead.

The steam swirled through the bathroom. Normally he would've watched it curling through the air, settling on ever surface. But Jonathon wasn't interested in it today. 

He stepped out of the shower, seizing his towel, and roughly scrubbing his skin, so that the blood rose beneath it, colouring it pink and red, the colour fading beneath it mere seconds after it rose. Putting on his dress gown, it was a short trip back to the room his father's old room, where he grabbed his clothes and headed back into the bathroom to get changed. 

He need to distract himself. Training room then. He knew it wasn't exactly the wisest thing to do - Nate could wake up at any moment. But he needed to get this out of his system. Whatever it was. 

Jonathon had his suspicions. But it couldn't be-

Unlocking the door to the training room, he slipped inside, closing it behind him, locking it just to be sure.

He dived straight into his usual routine of exercises; pull ups, ninety degree press ups, crunches, lunges... a quick succession of rapid-fire exercises that made him wish that he had done this before he gone to the shower. But he wasn't thinking clearly. Taking a pile of shuriken from the shelf, throwing the runed stars into a target on the wall, all of them thudding with the inner two rings, the dull thunk that they made each time somehow soothing. 

A sword left the wall, slashing through the air, the weapon simply an extension to himself, the two of them in perfect harmony, as the blade whistling through the air, a dance that drew figures in the air, cutting a thousand enemies to shreds, carving through invisible flesh, cleaving into bone, slashing and slicing through armour and cloth. 

It was placed back on the wall, and he started to do martial arts sets, his fists and feet snapping through the air, the knot that was inside him not lessening in the slightest. Jonathon growled in frustration, finishing off with a magnificent midair spinning kick, landing perfectly.

He lay down on the floor, breathing deeply and silently, stilling his heartbeat back to a normal rate. Jonathon rolled over onto his side, and glared at the wall, the knot in his stomach still there.

Why, oh why?

A knocking at the door made him sit up sharply. 

"You in there?"

Not the voice he wanted to hear at this moment in time. But the practical and the best option out of the two.

"Yeah, Alyssa."

Composing himself, he walked over to the door, the key clicking in the lock as he turned it, slipping out back into the hallway. Alyssa stood there, dressed casually in some clothes that she had brought over with her; a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, and dark green oversized t-shirt that fell halfway down her thighs., her hair tied back in a messy bun that languished at the back of her skull. Her glamour seemed to fade away as he looked into her eyes, but it made no difference to the how he was feeling. In fact, for some reason, it made it worse.

She was beautiful.

Jonathon quashed these thoughts, and asserted a sense of normalcy back into his mind. On listening a little more closely, he heard the shower running upstairs, the whirring of the pump and the splash of water audible to his Shadowhunter ears. 

"Morning."

"Mornin'," she yawned, stretching as she did, her t-shirt curving around her body-

Inappropriate. But so good-

Don't go there.

He averted his eyes, hoping that there was no colour rising into his cheeks. "I'm going make breakfast. How long do think Nate will be in the shower?"

"He got in there a few minutes ago - he'll be done soon enough. Nate doesn't take long in the shower. What are we having for breakfast?"

"I'm going to cook. Toast, sausages, bacon..."

"You cook?"

"You sound surprised."

Alyssa shrugged. "That's one skill set that I never thought Valentine would teach you."

"He did. Something about it being embarrassing for a warrior to not be able to do his own cooking. Although he never taught me how to make scrambled eggs."

"Why?"

"Because really liked them. A lesson to show me that I should only ask once for anything - and also that I couldn't get everything I wanted. "

With that, he strolled off into the kitchen, unwilling to talk any more. He needed to do something, anything, just to distract him. He needed something in his hands, so that he didn't imagine them wandering over, holding her as he had last night, maybe lacing their fingers together-

Instead, pans and pots end up on the stove, as Alyssa lounged on a chair behind him, his ears suddenly hypersensitive to every noise she made. 

"You need a hand?"

"I'm alright."

He heard her sigh, and stand up. 

"Seriously-" he began, not wanting her to get any closer. 

"Last night you told me I was being stupid for not accepting your bed. And you were right. Now I'm telling you that you're being stupid for saying you don't need any help. You aren't cooking for just yourself - you're cooking for three people. A Shadowhunter, a teenage boy, and a faerie who likes to eat. Do you realise how much food you're going to need?"

"Yeah-"

"And," she continued, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence, "I'm in no mood to wait, especially when I have nothing better to do. So what do I do? 'Cause if you don't tell me, I'm going to just start somewhere and you probably aren't going to like it."

The stubbornness, the way she spoke with absolute confidence, her lilting tone... 

Jonathon wanted to hit himself in the head, to slap himself hard around the face. He knew why he was acting like this. Exactly why. But why did it have to be so ridiculous? He was thinking like a sixteenth century English poet - all flowers and little tweeting birds flittering around. 

Why did liking someone turn every the most balanced people in airheads? 

"You can do the sausages and bacon. I'm going to make an omelette."

"Shall I do the toast as well?"

"Yeah. I'll handle the beans, mushrooms, tomatoes and onions. You guys like white or brown?" 

"I like brown; Nate prefers white. You?"

"Not fussy. Either is good."

"I'm going to put in the grill. The toaster's not going to able to hold all of the bread we're going to eat."

"It's fine," he said, moving away from where he was standing by the cooker to the table. Being in close proximity was hard. The natural faerie fragrance that had entranced the night before drifted over to him, ever so faintly. It was annoying and wonderful all together. 

He'd never really had a crush before. Sebastian had been all about sex. Carnal desire, just seeing someone, and wanting to possess them in a intimate way. A way that made them vulnerable and made him feel good at the same time. But this wasn't that at all.

Jonathon just liked Alyssa. He couldn't know why. He didn't understand it himself. He had no idea why the faerie girl had his stomach in knots, each knot filled with butterflies that tickled him, making him unable to concentrate on anything else. 

It was something he had noticed after a while. It had felt strange, but he hadn't quite understood what was going on at first. Even with her initial coldness, the odd emotion that he hadn't quite been able to pin down remained, gently poking at him whenever he saw her, and had gotten worse when she had decided to accept the fact that he wasn't going anywhere, and had started treating him like a normal person.

It simply intensified from there. A increasing ache that he still was unable to put into words. Eventually, he had come to reason that he felt some kind of way about Alyssa. Yet, the actual thought of him liking someone was not something he even entertained. 

But last night had been the clincher. 

When he had had his arms around her, the two of them closer than they had ever been before, it had hit him like a sucker punch. Jonathon knew he should have seen it coming. But he'd never thought that it would happen to him so early on in his freedom. And with someone from the Shadow World, at that. 

Liking someone. Caring about someone to the point where it became more than just friendship. 

It was funny that he had fallen for probably the only girl that would never see him as anything more than a friend. Someone who knew his dark history. Someone who had initially disliked him.

The universe was cruel. 

Even as they cooked together, he felt himself becoming more and more conflicted, confused about what he was supposed to do, whether he should say something or not. 

But what was he going to say? How would he say it?

Most importantly, what would her reaction be?

What would she say if she found out?

He didn't want to be break down a friendship that had just started. And what if the domino effect got rid of all his other friends as well?

He dismissed this particular train of thought - Alyssa would never be so petty. But he still didn't want to lose the ability to be close to her without the entire situation being awkward. 

His dark and fluffy musings were interrupted as Nate barrelled into the room, wearing clean clothes, and looking mildly refreshed. 

"You," Jonathon said, grateful for the his presence, "are a reckless and loud drunk."

"What did I do?" he said, flopping into a chair, seeing that there was nothing for him to do. "And can I have some coffee? I need to clear my head."

"Coffee machine's over there. Sugar's next to it, and milk in the fridge. Make me one while you're there?"

"Sure. Black?"

"Yep, with sugar."

As he fiddled with the machine, he asked once again. "What did I do this time?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Alyssa replied. "Climbing, singing, running around like a court jester..."

"Nothing obnoxious?"

"Nope," Jonathon said. "But you're still an idiot. You're bigger than I am - how much did you have to drink to end up like that?"

"Too much... But on the upside, I remember most of the night. It was good."

"Because you managed to dance and flirt with half of the girls there last night?" Alyssa said drily. 

"Yeah - because I didn't have to play decoy with you as I usually do."

"No - Jonathon kindly did that for me instead. Traitor."

Nate turned to Jonathon. "I apologise on her behalf. There's really no choice. Either dance with her, or be flattened with abuse and beatings the next day, from the girl who can't get drunk." He clapped him on the shoulder. "You took one for the team."

"It wasn't that bad. She was a better dancer than the rest of them."

"Well, at least someone appreciates my dancing skills."

"Clubbing is only fifteen percent dancing. Ten percent is alcohol, and the other seventy five is all about meeting new people. How're we meant to do that if we're stuck with the same person all evening? Jonathon was on a roll until you locked him down-"

"Jonathon's a gentleman. He was happy to help out a lady in distress."

"Lady?"

"Don't even start-"

"Lady?"

The scuffle that eschewed nearly resulted in the toast being the burnt, and a glass being smashed. But Jonathon didn't mind too much. Sitting down to a hearty breakfast feast, they laughed and talked for ages, just enjoy the company. 

Even if it hurt a little, when Alyssa spoke to him, or looked his way, Jonathon was still happy.


	18. Stalkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dark is rising.

"Speak."

"Yes, my Lady." The faerie bowed before the two figures in front of them, trying not to be distracted by the surroundings of the room. The floor shone darkly, as if it were made of molasses that someone was shining a torch through. It moved slowly, rippling as if they were in a underground lake, the patterns that it created moving on the ceiling. 

Other than that, the room was empty, bar for the two beings who were there. 

One of them was the Queen of the Seelie Court. She was dressed in cream robes, her red hair burning against the cloth, her eyes as cold and empty as her soul, one of her exposed legs long and elegant as if it were carved from porcelain . She looked every part the of a queen, regal and aloof, not a sign of accessibility visible on her face. Sitting on a throne made of black wood, that seemed to blend into the room, the Queen appeared to be levitating, the roughly hewn throne blending into the darkness; she stood out as one of the only point of colour in the room, the only bright thing in a room covered in shadows.

The other figure... he couldn't see. Even his eyes, better than any mundanes, could not pierce the gloom that surrounded whoever was standing there. But it was a powerful presence, a dark absolute, fitting in perfectly with the mood of the room, and the general feeling in the court in general. 

The faerie people were extremely unhappy. The laws the Nephilim had imposed on the most ancient supernatural race on earth had angered them beyond belief. The general feeling of the court was unknown, even to the those who had spies throughout all the echelons of faerie society. Some blamed to Queen for their misfortune, some blamed her advisors, some blamed Sebastian. 

But there was, overall, still a high level of discontent for the Nephilim, the children of Raziel. The Fey were proud, and being curtailed and commanded as if they were dogs or naughty children had truly drawn their ire. 

What would be done about them was yet to be decided. They all knew it would happen, they simply did not know how, or when. 

"I said speak. Have you lost your tongue?" the Queen said, her tone frosty. She opened a cream coloured fan, waving it at herself gently, the presence in the shadows pulsing with anticipation and menace. 

The faerie looked at them, and began to speak.

"I was in London, late at night, in the heart of the city. And I thought I saw the one that you once called ally."

"Of whom do you speak?"

"Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern. The one who was also known as Sebastian. Child of Raziel and Lilith."

"And why do you believe it was him? The Clave burnt his body - there is nothing remaining of the child of Valentine Morgenstern and Jocelyn Fairchild."

"But I heard rumours that he was not dead."

"From where do these rumours stem?"

"There are rumours that someone in the court does not believe he is dead, and is actively seeking him. For what purpose, I am unaware. But I thought it best to bring this your attention - although I am sure that you already know."

The Queen smiled, her hair fluttering slightly as she fanned it, a tiny smile gracing her lips, turning her face from neutral into something that looked a little more sinister. 

"I had heard whispers of such an event. But no-one has approached me with this speculation."

"Well, my Lady I felt it wise to approach you now. I have told no-one of this, knowing that you would appreciate the knowledge being exclusively passed onto you."

"No-one?"

"Not a soul, my Lady. Not through technology, writing or speech."

"Excellent." The Queen snapped her fan shut, her smile widening, her eyes glowing, the blue in them becoming sharper, changing them into something cruel and truly as far from human as they could possibly be.

"He is yours, my Lady."

The faerie stood up, sensing the atmosphere in the room changing, as the shadows seemed to darken, the faint glow lessening to the point where it was non-existent to anything without enhanced vision. 

"My Queen-"

"Don't take this personally. You see, no-one can know that Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern is alive. He is a vital part of something that could prove to be very beneficial to us, and extremely detrimental to the Nephilim. But the entirety of this plan hinges on the fact that everyone still believes he is dead."

"My Lady, I will not-"

"Spare me," she sighed. "Do not resist. It is boring when the inevitable is prolonged. You will not escape from here."

The faerie ran to where the door had been - only to find the passageway sealed. 

His hands slapped against the wall, scrabbling to find some purchase, his mouth forming soundless words, eventually managed to get the sounds out to for spells that attempted to remove the blockade from his way, to allow him to escape from the darkness that he felt closing in on him. 

The presence was oppressive; as it drew closer that light grew dimmer, the feeling of unease and terror ramping up with every passing moment, his heart beginning to race, sweat forming all over his body, the liquid instantly turning cold, a quiet hissing noise coming from behind him. Actually, there were two hissing noises, but he wasn't in any state to pay attention to anything, frantically scrabbling on the wall, his fingernails breaking and snapping, blood running his hands as he tried to escape his sentence. 

Realising running away was not an answer, he turned around, bending down and removing a small knife that he kept in his boot, keeping a firm grip on the handle of the steel blade, glaring into the darkness to see what he was facing. 

As it approached, his hand tightened , his eyes trying to pick out what was approaching him in the gloom. 

What he saw terrified him. 

A small figure about four and half feet high stood behind him. Grey, flaking skin covered its body, flakes of it drifting to the ground, dissolving into the darkness that pervaded the room. In stark contrast, her hair was thick and full looking, flowing down to the floor, trailing behind her as she walked towards the informant. Long, talon-like nails stretched from her fingers towards the floor, wickedly curved, only visible because they reflected the merge light that still existed. Bangs of hair covered the creature's face, but not down to the mouth, which was surprisingly alluring, even with the grey skin, the lips plump and curved into a smile. Moving his eyes up to a face that would be exquisite when it was fully regenerated, he saw that the bangs that covered her eyes were moving slightly, reminding him of something hiding behind a curtain just before the beginning of a show.

Despite having seen horrors in his life, he let out a quiet scream two snake heads, their red eyes gleaming in amidst the gloom of the room and the creature's general presence.

The demon raised her hand, pushing her hair back from her face as she revealed that the snakes protruded from her hollow eye sockets, hissing at him, tiny fangs dripping with poison. 

With a hoarse cry, he jumped forward slashing at the creature with the knife; the swiftness that all the Fey possessed combining with his terror to fuel the attack. 

Quicker than he thought possible could see, the demon raised her hand, clenching her nails into claws, that pierced through his wrist before the blade could even get there. He roared in pain as the nails moved through bone and flesh, blood spurting out. In his agony, he dropped the knife - only to reach over and snatch it from the air with his other hand, the blade slamming into where her heart should have been. 

Black blood trickled down, hissing as it touched the ground, blade and handle dissolving in the acidity of the dark substance, his fingers beginning to melt as it touched it, the pain shooting up into his mind, making him yell again, as the melded sludge of metal and wood slithered down her skin to ground, pooling into a foul concoction. The grey skin healed, and her other hand whipped round, slamming through his forearm and pinning it to his body as deadly nails went straight through. 

She leaned forward as he struggled against her, howling in pain, her smile widening. The snakes on her face lashed out, biting his cheek and his eye, the small fangs piercing into him. He screamed, and she drew back from him, allowing him to crash to the ground with thud, a tingling, stinging pain spreading through his face as he clutched at his ruined eye, the poison spreading through his veins and arteries, making them stand out, his blood spreading out over the floor. 

"Wh-" he moaned. And then began to convulse, screaming and howling as the venom spread through his body, filling him with indescribable pain, as if someone had injected cold iron, rowan wood and salt into his veins. He writhed around on the floor, limbs banging on the ground as agony coursed through him, unable to control himself, his wounds becoming worse as he thrashed through the pain. 

Tears welded up in his uninjured eye and he screamed again, as the demon stepped on his flailing forearm the bone crunching slightly as he tried to move it, his voice sounding hoarse and crude in his own ears.

"Do you wish for this to end?"

Her voice was quiet and inviting, beautiful, a stark contrast to the her appearance and actions. 

"Then give your life to me, and all this will be over."

"I won't-" he began, and then screamed loudly, a high banshee's wail, as she ground down on his arm, the bone crunching down into cartilage and marrow, the holes in his arm seething with pain as she smiled at his anguish.

"Don't you want to be over? It will be much easier if you do."

"Please-"

She lashed out, faster than the eye could see, her nails piercing straight into other arm at the shoulder, causing him to yell so loudly that he actual felt something tear in his vocal cords, a trickle of blood running down his throat. 

"I will not let you die until you do," the demon whispered, her voice insidious and sweet at the same time. "I have more than enough power to keep you alive while you suffer. And I have a thousand ways to make you suffer."

She twisted her nails, the pain intensifying even more than had imagined. He just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. It had to end. 

"I give my... I give my..."

Her hand and foot moved slightly, causing him to scream once more.

"What were you saying?"

Tears ran freely from his uninjured eye, as he spoke the words of his final decision.

"I give my life to you."

"Willingly?"

"Willingly, you demon whore!"

To his surprise, she did not take the bait. She simply smiled, a terrifying expression that revealed some surprisingly normal looking teeth. 

"Thank you. You have been most helpful." 

Her hand ripped out of his arm, and she swung round faster than the eye could see, plunging her nails into his heart with one and pinning his head with the other, cutting the pain stricken noises from his mouth short, his body stiffening as they passed straight into him.

Wisps of grey, green and yellow light flowed out of the dying faerie twisting up the creature's arms, twisting up her arms, turning into two multicoloured streams that were devoured by her eyes, the faerie on the floor drying out and cracking as all of its life force was stolen away, the faerie eventually crumbling to dust as all the liquid his body dried out, his very bones turning to powder, the pool of blood around him drying up, as even the energy from that was stolen.

The creature grew slightly, her skin healing and becoming more human like - except for the solid grey colour, although it was lighter than before, and the complete absence of hair on her body. She grew to just over five and a half feet, her hair coming off the floor, and retracting into her skull so that it hung around her waist.

"So he is in London, is he?" she mused, ignoring the droplets of blood that were splattered around the room, the last remnant of her meal.

"It seems so. Although it could just simply be a mistake."

"I doubt it. My son is quite distinctive. And it makes sense that he would go there. Easy to get lost in that city, and far away from anyone who knows him. His father also had a home there."

"But would he not want to escape anything that reminded him of his father?"

"Practicality over emotion. That is what his father taught him. He would not simply reject a house because it reminded him of unpleasantness. But even so, he is still human. I might have the wrong assumption about him."

"Needless to say, this is the first viable lead we have had. We should at least see it through. This entire venture hinges on me being able to get my son back. The sooner, the better."

"Shall I send agents to London then, my Lady Lilith?"

"Certainly. I will send my spies as well. We will find him. No matter how long it takes."


	19. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.

"Come on!" Harrison roared, his team thundering up the pitch towards the goal. His face was full of resentment and anger, his eyes almost sparking in rage, his fists clenching, arms moving like pistons as he headed towards his rival. 

Jonathon stood there, waiting, ready. He had been practising his football skills, and had gotten pretty good at them. He could dribble, pass, shoot... but his heart truly lay in the goal. He could have easily out sped all of them on the field, darting and diving through everyone, heading towards the opposing goal. But that would have drawn attention and suspicion - so he restrained himself, remaining back to intercept the shots that flew his way. He liked protecting something, defending rather than attacking, being relied on keep something safe. 

It was nice to trusted, even if it was with something that wasn't a matter of life and death. 

Then there was the personal satisfaction of thwarting Harrison. In any game where Harrison and he played together, Harrison had not scored a goal. Not a single one. He had taken great pleasure in stopping every one of his attacks on goal. No-one else had passed him either, but Harrison was the only one that took it personally. 

There was only a few seconds left, and Jonathon's team were only one goal up. A goal now would put the match in limbo. He was not going to let it happen. 

The other strikers running down the pitch, warding off the defenders, giving Harrison and Jonathon the field. It was just the two of the them, and the ball. Their focus was divided equally between the football, and each other, the two of them locked into their own little world that brought everything else to a complete standstill. 

Harrison roared as he blasted the ball at a top corner of the goal, as far away from his nemesis as he could get. Jonathon watched it, his angel blood seemingly slowing everything down as he watched the foot connect with the ball, sending it flying through the air, all of Harrison's frustration and rage at being usurped from his supposed throne contained in the single attack.

But it was no use. None at all. 

Jonathon let the ball approach, allowing it to fly towards the back of the net, almost seeing Harrison's emotions surrounding it, wanting to cross the white line, willing it to slam into the white crisscrossed threads that formed the goal. 

Then he flew into the air, stretching out his hands, snatching the black and white ball from the air in one smooth motion, landing elegantly, rolling over and spring up to stand tall holding it tightly, as his team erupted in the cheers, while Harrison's threw tantrums all across the field.

Jonathon met Harrison's eyes. They were burning with rage, a hatred that he still didn't quite understand. How could jealousy run so deep, so dark that you could hate someone you barely knew? He wasn't sure that was all it is, but it was the only thing that he could possibly think of. Why else would he not like him? 

He shook his head slightly, moving away from the pitch back towards his team, feeling the eyes burning into his back.

..............................................................................................

They came out of nowhere, as he was walking home. He heard them approaching, but he didn't think that they were approaching him. 

Then hands slammed into his back, sending him sprawling, to the ground, keeping a hold on his bag as he struck the ground. Then there were fists raining down on him, kicks slamming into his sides, open handed slaps and hard knuckles slamming into his face and head, elbows crashing into him. He curled up into a ball, wondering what the hell was going on. This went on for about forty seconds, his surprise and pain robbing him of any response.

Somehow, he had been expecting this. He knew what this was. He knew who this was.

So he wasn't at all surprised when someone knelt down next to his head, and whispered those familiar words in his ear. 

"Albino fucker. The next time-"

He uncoiled like a whip, lashing out blindly, colliding with his foe, taking pleasure in the howl his foe let out when his fist connected, resulting in another ten seconds of vicious savagery that he thought might have cracked a rib. Then someone screamed down the road, and someone else shouted, and his attackers fled leaving him on the street. 

His head was spinning, his vision clouded and blurry. He coughed, not spitting for some reason, feeling the begins of a slow burning pain welling up all over his body. He heard more footsteps coming towards them, someone shouting about an ambulance and the police. 

No. No way. Authorities meant questions. Authorities meant investigations. Investigations that would lead back the school who would try to contact his non-existent parents. The amount of trouble that would come from that would destroy what he had just managed to create. 

He had to get out of here. 

Hauling himself to his feet, his vision clearing, but everywhere still aching, clutching his bag under one arm.

"Hey!" someone called out. "You shouldn't be up, wait for-"

He'd been beaten worse than this by Valentine. The demon whip had hurt far more than this. His father had broken his bones and struck him, all of them calculated blows, to inflict maximum pain. These people were inexperienced - they hadn't hurt him as much as they thought they had. 

He heard the footsteps approaching slowing down - and was gone like a shot. 

His angel blood sang as he ran, a song that drowned out the calls of him to stop. His blurry vision caught sight of someone spreading their arms to stop him; he dodged around them, darting under their arms, his body crying out slightly as he moved. Jonathon felt his head clearing, and felt the adrenaline coursing through his body, moving towards the place that he felt safest.

He just need to get home.

............................................................................................

Reactivating the wards that protected him from the supernatural, he slumped down into a chair in the kitchen, tilting his head back as his adrenaline levels fell back to normal, wincing as the pain returned with a vengeance.

He just need to rest for a minute, before he fixed himself up. Valentine hadn't just taught him offensive spells. In the rare case that he was injured then he would be able patch himself up rather well, even if he didn't have a stele. Together, he could patch himself up so that nothing would even look awry the next day. 

He could've fought back properly, he knew. Even with the sneak attack and the group assault, he could've taken them down. 

But the rage he had felt back then...

Jonathon shuddered. It was if Sebastian had awoken inside him. He had visualised getting up and literally beating all of his attackers within a inch of their miserable lives. He saw him breaking their bones, flinging them left and right as he decimated them, listening to their cries for mercy, revelling in their pain and in their defeat. 

As for Harrison... well. In the vision, Harrison was dead, his eyes turning glassy as the life was choked out of him, the last thing his saw being Jonathon's face. But it was the reflection in Harrison's eyes that had disturbed him the most, which had made him stay right where he even if he was in pain. 

He had had no eyes

His eye sockets were empty shells. Empty gaping holes in the middle of face.

There was no way he could tell if his eyes were green or black. 

For some reason that disturbed him more than he thought it would. 

Not knowing whether it was him or Sebastian who had committed the atrocities that he had seen in that instant. 

A fresh wave of pain interrupted his musings. Right. The matter at hand. Mind games with Harrison. And he didn't want to get an infection. 

Going up to the bathroom after a long, slow drink of water, taking his stele with him, Jonathon decided that it would be faster to take a shower to clean his wounds initially. So he stripped off, looking disgustedly at the holes and tears in his clothing. Before he stepped into the shower, he wandered back downstairs and put them in the washing machine, putting them in on a quick wash to clean out the dirt and blood. He wandered back upstairs , stepping into the shower and turning the water up to full blast and a higher heat than he normally would have used. The near scalding water relaxed his muscles, while washing the remains of the blood of him, cleaning out his cuts. His eyes followed the pink swirl as it flowed down the drain.

Stepping out of the shower, and patting himself dry instead of rubbing himself, just so the skin didn't tear any more, he took out this disinfectant, and dabbed in on the broken flesh, the sting of the product not bothering him at all. Then he took up his stele, and drew iratzes all over his battered body, feeling the rune magic doing its work on his abused body. 

Wrapping his towel round his waist, he went back downstairs - and then decided he couldn't be bothered to cook. 

So he picked up his phone to order takeaway - and saw that he had messages and calls from both Nate and Alyssa, and few from the others, asking him about what had happened. 

How had they heard so quickly? 

Hmm. Either Harrison and his peons had been boasting about it, or someone from their school had seen what had happened and updated everyone about it. 

He'd reassure all of them in a minute. Right now, he wanted pizza. 

Making the call, he ordered himself a extra large pizza and side of garlic bread. Eating all of it wasn't going to be problem. He needed the energy anyway. Most of his homework was done, so he would just sit back and relax. Watch a movie while he ate. He'd already trained this morning, so he was under no obligation to do anything this evening. 

Jonathon set a glass of juice on the table in front of him, sipping at it, while he messaged everyone back telling them they that he was still alive, and not to worry about him.

His phone rang halfway through, interrupting him in the middle of him typing out a message. 

"You alright?"

Was that note of concern in her voice? He dismissed the thought in a second. He didn't want to start seeing signs where there were none, finding potential where there was nothing but friendly concern. 

"I'm a Shadowhunter. I'm fine. I've had worse beatings than that from people who claimed to care about me."

"I should deal with him."

The quiet menace in her voice was more disturbing than if she had shouted. Mortals versus an angry faerie knight. No contest. Especially if she was wielding a weapon. The result, to say in the least, would not be pretty. "Leave it alone, Alyssa. It doesn't matter."

"How does it not matter? They attacked you for no reason! If you were anyone else, you'd be in hospital now."

"But I'm not. I'm alright. It'll be more of a surprise when I show up tomorrow, looking like nothing happened at all. It'll be hilarious to say in the least. And Harrison will have a scar from the encounter; so all in all, I win."

"Why are you so passive? He's a fucking coward, and should be sorted out accordingly. I don't need your help to do it. I can do it myself-"

"Look, what's the point? Why waste the time? Why bother to fight him? In the great scheme of things, how dangerous is he?" He rushed on before she could reply. "Exactly. No-one. He's not a real threat. He's just... an idiot. A violent idiot. But still an idiot all the same. If I need to, I can handle him. Anytime, anywhere. Don't get yourself all riled up about something so insignificant. There's so much more we have to worry about."

"When did the warrior become a peacemaker?" she said, her tone both biting and... there it was again. Something he couldn't recognise.

"I spent my whole life fighting. I want a break." The words rang hollow as he said them, the sight of his empty eye sockets reflected in Harrison's dead eyes returning, a nightmare that easily become reality. The only question was - whose eyes would be staring back at him, if it came to that?

"We don't always get what we want. Sometimes, circumstance forces us to choose what we don't want," Alyssa replied. 

"I know. But let's wait until I need to choose."

"Sometimes playing the waiting game is more detrimental than decisive action."

"We're not at war here, Alyssa. "

"You might not be. But I think Harrison believes he is."

"Well, he can enjoy fighting the air. I really don't want to start something that's going to end badly."

"Why? Because you know it'll only end badly for him? Why do care?"

"Because... Because I have to. If I don't, how am I any better than him?"

"You are," she replied instantly, no trace of doubt in her voice. "Because you chose to be. But being better than him doesn't mean you have to become a pushover, either. Do you want me call Nate and tell him your alright?" she continued abruptly bringing the conversation to an end.

"Please. I don't think that I really want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the evening."

"No problem."


	20. Reparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Jonathon intentionally arrived late at school, well into the first period Latin class he had, not really caring about what anyone else was going to say about his tardiness. Maximum impact was needed, and this was the best way to achieve it. Despite the fact that spring was approaching, it didn't seem to be getting any warmer, so his coat was on,and his hood up, which was convenient for what he had planned. The hood was deep, and hid most of his face, the coat made tailor made for him. One of Valentine's only gifts to him - and only because it was a family tradition. 

He swept through the hallways, looking remarkably like a Sith Lord, he thought, as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a display cabinet, full of sports trophies. Except for the eyes. Green, instead of the gleaming yellow. This time last year, he wouldn't have even known what a Sith Lord was. 

How times had changed. 

Jonathon arrived at his classroom, and walked in, interrupting Mrs Castellenos mid-speech.

"Jonathon? I thought you weren't coming in today. I heard you weren't well."

"I'm fine. I was feeling a bit unwell yesterday, but I'm lot better now," he said, glancing from under his hood at Harrison, who was sitting in his usual seat, his face slightly marred by what looked like a swollen or split lip, a black eye and a bruise on his cheek. How had he managed that with one blow? Jonathon didn't know, but the thought made him smile. 

The class was whispering intently, all of them obviously having heard about the incident yesterday, assuming as he hoped, that he was wearing the hood to hide his injured face. Exactly as he had planned it. 

He moved over to his seat as the entire class whispered and murmured, wondering what he looked like under the hood. 

He slid into his seat silently, not taking off his coat or his hood, waiting for the inevitable to occur. 

"Jonathon, could you remove your coat and hood, please?" Mrs Castellanos asked, as she turned back to the board to write something. 

He saw and heard the students turn in his direction, knowing that they wanted to see whether or not he had been beaten up as badly as Harrison had probably claimed he had been.

He slowly lowered his hood, revealing his completely unmarked face, rolling his shoulders with a ease that he shouldn't have been able to muster with all the damage he had supposedly taken last night. 

He watched Harrison's face change from a smug mask into something that looked like open shock and horror. Jonathon allowed himself to smirk slightly, letting his lips curl with contempt and amusement at his reaction. Seriously, was he stupid enough to think that he'd won?

As the class dissolved back into silence as Mrs Castellanos turned to glare at them for their whispering, Jonathon made sure he met Harrison's eyes, and widened his slightly, the combination of that and his mocking grin absolutely devastating. Harrison's face twisted in shock, and something akin to fear and horror, before he remembered to be angry, glaring at him with an intensity that would've scared anyone who hadn't witness the horrors he had seen.

He allowed his smile to widen slightly, and his eyes to narrow and watched with pleasure as his nemesis flinched, unable to hold his gaze. Harrison was probably trying to work out exactly what had happened, and why Jonathon was completely better. 

Keeping an idiot in the dark was more fun than he had initially thought it would be.

.................................................................................

"How on earth do you look so well?"

"He didn't beat me up as badly as he thought he did."

Nate frowned at him, the expression turning into a half smile. "Like hell he didn't. I've heard of Harrison doing that to people outside of school - and I even saw a picture of the result one time. It wasn't pretty."

"I'm sure it wasn't."

"So how did you get off so lightly? One of people from the lower years saw the whole thing, and said you looked pretty roughed up - and as usual Harrison was bragging about it, sending round messages that he'd sorted you out. Naturally, they filtered out to everyone. But he wouldn't send them out unless he had actually done something. You not showing up to registration seemed to seal the deal. But then you arrive looking absolutely normal and perfectly fine - while Harrison looks like he's a seen a ghost, after getting smacked in the face really, really hard. So what's going on?"

"Nothing, Nate. He just didn't get me as well as he thought he had. I'm a little bit tougher than I look."

"I don't doubt that."

Something about the way he said it made Jonathon look at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"There's just something about you, Jon. I don't know what, and I couldn't put it into words even if I tried. Something that tells that there's definitely more to you than you let onto. Similar to Alyssa in some respects."

The comparison jolted him, but he tried not to let it show on his face. "How?"

"There's just something... more about the two of you. Something strong. Something controlled. It just surrounds you. Harrison pretends that he has it, but in reality, he's just a poser. You two are just different. Not in a bad way, not a good way - just something that sets the two of your apart from everyone else."

"I'm sure you're just imagining it," Jonathon said, his mind whirling at the thought that him and Alyssa were similar - and more importantly, that Nate had noticed.

"That's exactly what Alyssa said to me," Nate replied a note of amusement in his voice. "I'll work out what's so different about the two of you one of these days. But I still don't believe you."

Jonathon realised that he had been making a face when Nate laughed. "Hey, it doesn't mean that I don't trust you. Just that there's another layer to you that I haven't worked out yet. But it doesn't matter."

"How does it not matter?" Jonathon asked, almost kicking himself when he did. He'd just been given a pass, and he had just proverbially spat in the its face.

Nate shrugged. "I guess there must be a reason why you're not telling me. We might be friends, but we all have secrets and things that we don't want to talk about, or can't tell anyone else. I respect your privacy. Although I'm not going to lie - I do want to know. But it's only one thing, right? Nothing to die in a ditch over."

Jonathon just let it mull over, finding it so interesting that someone could trust him only having known him for just a few weeks. "Thanks for not prying. It's complicated." 

Nate burst out laughing again. "That's exactly what Alyssa said as well."

They rounded a corner - and stopped short as they came across Harrison and couple of his cronies, whose names he actually couldn't be bothered to remember, who were moving in the opposite direction. His face changed from a mark of shock into a look of rage and slight horror, as if he couldn't believe that his nemesis was standing there, looking perfectly fine.

Jonathon couldn't resist. 

"Seems like you ran into a door, Harrison," he said, adopting a tone of perfect innocence. "What happened?"

"Looks more like a wall to me," Nate needled, a mocking grin crossing his face. "I'd say that's it's an improvement. Barely."

Harrison coloured slightly, and then remembering that he had to be tough in front of his followers, stepped forward, letting the colour return to normal. 

"How did you recover so fast? It's not possible, you albino-"

"As I told you before," Jonathon interrupted, "I'm better than you. That's all there is to it." 

"Don't bullshit me," Harrison snarled. "There's no way you could've recovered so fast." He shook his head, his face twisting in hatred . "You're a freak. A fucking albino freak"

"Yeah," Nate said, surprising Jonathon. "Jon's a freak. An awesome freak. Genuine, friendly, inclusive... and he takes craps that will always be better than you. You're shit. Literally. Actually, I take that back. At least shit can be useful. You're not."

"Shut the fuck up Nate," Harrison hissed. "I already don't like you. Don't make me hate you anymore than I already do."

"We've already been down this route Harrison," Nate replied coldly. "And although you insist it was a draw, we both know you lost. You've already lost with Jonathon. Face it. You're a failure."

"I can take both of you on. I'm not scared you. I'll take you both out. You're too cocky for your own good. Keep this up and I'll put you in your place. This is my year group. No-one steps out of line."

Nate opened his mouth to say something - but Jonathon looked at him, trying to communicate through his eyes that he was going to handle this. His dark haired friend smirked at him, and silenced himself.

Jonathon changed his face - a trick both Lilith and Valentine had taught him. He let it slide into sinister mask, letting the part of the expression of Sebastian return to his visage, looking as if he were some type of avenging, fallen angel, his shining hair and his green eyes working flawlessly with the planes of his face to create an look that was cruel, aloof and arrogant all at the same time.

"Whatever you think you are, Harrison; remember this - you are nothing compared to me. So let me put this to you in a manner that even your empty head can understand. If you ever come after me, or any one of my friends ever again, I will take you down. And you won't even see it coming."

"Are you threatening me?"

Jonathon leaned in slightly, baring his teeth, making Harrison take a tiny step back. "Only a idiot doesn't know the difference between a threat and a promise. I advise you learn the distinction fast."

Harrison stood there, slightly stunned as both Nate and Jonathon moved around him, leaving him standing there, looking quite ridiculous while they strolled off. 

"That's exactly what I mean," Nate added as they rounded another corner. 

"What?"

"If anyone else had said to Harrison what you just said, it would've been threatening, but not convincing. You on the other hand... If I didn't know you, I'd be scared."

"Am I really that bad?"

"I don't think it's a bad thing. I think that it's just the way it is with you."

The thought somehow didn't comfort him. 

.................................................................................................

"So I heard you put Harrison in his place today."

"Somewhat. Nate told you, I guess."

"Yeah. And I heard Harrison raving on about how he wasn't afraid of you all, so I guessed that you might've made a move. What did you say to him?"

"I effectively warned him to not start something that he wasn't going to win, and probably wouldn't be able to finish."

Alyssa let out a cold laugh. "If he knew even a fraction of what I knew about you, he'd be running in the opposite direction. Or bowing and scraping for his life."

"I'm not that person anymore."

"You may not be. But he is a part of you. Just as I cannot forget my past, you will not forget yours. There's no need to be proud of it - but embrace that fact that despite your dislike for it, there are still some useful lessons to be gleaned from what you've experienced."

"Is that how you see you past?"

"It's the only way to see your past. You can't exactly go back and change it - so you may as well learn from it, and try to make something good come of it."

"That's...a different way to think about it."

"In my opinion, it's the best way to think about it. If you start trying to dissect it, analyse it, rationalise it, everything just gets messy. Trust me, you don't want to waste your life on something like that. Take it from someone who spent too long doing just that."

"How long?" he asked curiously to know just that little bit more about her. As if it would make a difference.

"Longer than you've been born. All of you in this school are children to me. Babies, really. But that's why I like it here. You all haven't had time to become jaded yet. Or as detached as the long-lived of the Shadow World. It gets quite irritating after a while."

"I'm not going to live for as long as you are."

"True. But getting detached and jaded can happen to anyone, at anytime. Don't let it happen to you. Believe me, it's not fun."

"Why are you warning me about this?"

"A lot of bad things happened to you - a brilliant place for the seeds of those two things to be sown. But surprisingly, you're pretty resistant." She smiled at him, her infamous half curve making the butterflies in his stomach dance again. "It's admirable."

He only wished she found it attractive.


	21. Following

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trackers never seem to be kind.

Why did his mistress have to be so strict? Why did she have to be so demanding?

That boy was only part hers. The other half of him was still angelic filth - the scum of that bastard dog, Raziel who had made their lives so much harder. If he hadn't give Jonathon Shadowhunter that blasted cup, they would've ruled this world and fed off the all the pathetic weaklings that milled around, completely unaware of the true dangers that lurked in the shadows waiting to spring out and seize them, to drag them away and feast off their fragile, succulent flesh. Listening to their screams and pleas as they died slowly, drinking their tangy, rich blood, crunching through their bones, devouring the soft marrow within, the ripping the organs apart, piece by piece, savouring the muscle of the heart, the softer liver being stripped apart, layer by layer, while he drained the acid from the stomach, a rich, beautiful beverage. 

But for now, he had a job to do. 

He strolled out into the street, as he had done for the past few nights, wandering around, searching for this boy. This object of obsession for the Princess of demons. 

The meat around him ignored him, just another person wandering through the streets of London, another face in the masses, forgotten almost instantaneously by people walking by. The glamour spell he was using was helping, but it some respects it was unnecessary. 

He was already in disguise - and able to change it in at the drop of a hat.

He sighed, wishing he could go back home back to the dimension he called home, a tortured ruin where the sky was dark, the seas full of bleak, poisoned waters and things that could barely be called demons, let alone creatures. 

But he was here, searching for Lilith's favourite child. 

A pointless search.

There were seven and half million people in London - not including visitors. How was meant to find one person, when he could be anywhere?

He sighed, looking at the humans that passed by, wishing that he could just stop for a snack. 

Rolling his eyes, he headed toward a tree that towered over the street. The faerie that stood beneath the branches was wearing thin, almost gossamer clothing under heavy armour, a powerful glamour making anyone that came too close to him subconsciously swerve around him, as he remained unseen to their eyes. 

"Any luck?" the faerie asked. Vire, the demon remembered. The demon, for some reason, quite liked him. He was direct, uncomplicated, and had a wrath and a demeanour worthy of one of the Fati themselves.

"Not at all. I do not know what our mistresses are thinking. We could search for years and never bump into him. He could be seventy years old before we even hear rumours of his whereabouts. 

Vire growled. "I've staked the area where he was supposedly last seen for days - and he hasn't returned. I'm beginning to think that either the informant was lying, or that he has moved on to another place."

"We cannot be so hasty. You know that these humans don't always go clubbing? Well, some of them do, but most of them only go once in a while. It could be months before he decides to clubbing again - and even then, the likelihood of him going back the particular club isn't high, as there are so many others to choose from."

"I think we should return to the club and use magic to track him. If not, then there might be someone who saw him, or remembers something. "

"I agree with returning to the club. But I doubt that magic will be able to track him after so long. Especially when we have nothing to connect us to him."

"It's the best we can do."

................................................................................

The club was quiet that night. A few people were dancing, the others sipping drinks at tables that had mysteriously appeared to shrink the dance floor. Completely invisible to those who stood around, the faerie and demon pooled their spells together, try to catch something, anything of their quarry. But the energies of the hundreds of people that had spun around on the dance floor sullied any chance they had of following his trail. 

"As you said, useless," Vire snarled. "I don't even know why I suggested it."

"No... Actually, it was a very good idea," the Eidolon demon realised. "These humans, not having magic, have developed other ways to watch people."

He smiled at the cameras in the corner. 

"All we have to do is use their technology, and we should get some more information about our elusive angel ghost."

"The sooner, the better. Humans make my skin crawl." Vire's eyes moved around the club, contemptuous and haughty at the same time. "They are so pathetic. Ants moving around, waiting to be crushed. Without their overpopulation of the world, and the Nephilim, they would have been under our rule from long ago. Or at least we'd be free to do with them as we please."

"The Nephilim are irritating. But I find humans interesting. They are so much fun to play with."

"Don't you mean kill?"

"Same thing."

They moved towards the back of the club, going through the door marked No Entry, heading towards the security room. 

The operator sat there, watching the camera alertly, eyes perky, back straight. He wasn't new to the job, but he'd been caught slacking off recently, sleeping in the control room while there had been a massive fight going on. When the other securities guards ran to control room after the fight had been broken up, to find out why they'd had to wait for all out brawl to begin before they had known what was going on, they had taken pictures of his sleeping form, and shown them to the boss, who had given him a severe dressing down. Now he was working hard, even though it was absolutely mind numbing. 

Unfortunately, he was going to get in trouble once again.

Vire's fist crashed down on his head, sending him spiralling into darkness. He fell of the chair, slumping to floor. 

The Eidolon demon grabbed the chair and sat down. 

"Now all we have to do is go through all the Saturday recordings. He's so unique that it shouldn't take too long to find him. Angel filth always stand out in the a crowd of mortals. They just can't help themselves. Even when they try to fit in, they simply just can't."

"Can you make sure he doesn't wake up?" Vire asked him, gesturing dismissively to the crumpled figure on the ground. "If he wakes up, I'll have to kill him. That might draw some unwanted attention."

The Eidolon demon murmured something in a demonic language that made the man's half open eyes slide shut. Vire walked over, looking at the flickering screen, watching the humans in their revelry, his lips curled in just a little less distaste than usual. He understood the pleasure of partying - but even then, the faerie knight still could not take them seriously. 

They went back through the Saturdays, looking for a glimpse of Lilith's son.

Vire stopped the video noticing the flash of hair that could not be missed. 

"Shadowhunter," the Eidolon demon hissed. "We've found him."

They watched him, rewinding through all the tapes of that night, finding him when he first entered the club.

"Looks like he's found some friends. They look rather young. Nearly adults - just not quite there yet."

"How can you tell?" the demon asked. 

"I've seen enough of them over the years. You'd know to - if you weren't so busy hunting them."

"I know the difference between the young and old ones - I prefer the young ones. Much nicer."

They lapsed into silence as they watched, fast forwarding the video, keeping their eyes on a boy that they both had to admit was extremely good looking for any of the races.

"Keeps himself busy doesn't he?" the Eidolon demon said, watching him dance with multiple girls as the night passed by. 

"Do you blame him?" Vire replied. 

"But that last one was pretty one," his companion smiled, pointing at the glamoured Alyssa on the screen. "Exceptionally so. The two of them for mortals..."

"They both move in the same way," the faerie knight added. "Elegantly. I wonder..."

"I'm sure we'd be able to see if she was part of the Shadow World," the demon said dismissing the claim. 

"Not necessarily."

"Maybe she's just a dancer. Or a martial arts expert. But we have our target, and that is all that matters."

"Let us move on to the end of the night," Vire admonished. "I can only bear so much human dancing. Human parties are so boring."

"Moving on then..." 

The screen blurred, the pictures moving so swiftly that the elegant and inelegant movements of the club became indistinguishable, and ended up looking like a mass of people drowning. Then the lights came on and they all stopped, moving with jerky, sped up motions, as they moved to retrieve their belongings before stumbling out into the night.

"Are there cameras outside this place? I want to see what direction they headed in."

The Eidolon demon looked over at the chart of the wall that displayed the positions of the cameras.

"Camera 8 should do the trick."

They watched the inebriated mundanes stumble around on the pavement outside, keeping an eye on the child of Lilith as he stood with four other people, two of whom were taken away by a black car. Both of them memorised the sequence of letters and numbers in a heartbeat. 

The Nephilim and the two others - one male, one female - all moved off together away from the club, both of them noting the direction that they moved in. 

"So what now?" the Eidolon demon asked, stretching, and pushing himself back from the control panel, a remarkably human gesture.

"Let us leave this place. My skin is beginning to itch - and we have tarried here for far too long."

With that, he turned, bent down and seized the hapless guard, shoving him back into the chair that the Eidolon demon had just gotten out of, roughly pushing him back in front of the control panel. The man's head slumped forward, smashing into hard surface - but neither of them were there to see it, the door clicking shut behind them. Moving through the club, the Eidolon demon nudged a few arms, spilling some drinks, while Vire simply left at post haste, his lip curling in wry amusement at his companion's antics.

..........................................................................

"So they went that way. Can we assume that they were going home?"

"Not advisable," Vire replied. "Our Queens want results, not speculation. There is another way."

"That being...?"

"Morgenstern is obviously friends with all those people we saw him with. I would hazard a guess that they met at some type of gathering - a organisation of some sort. If we can trace one of them, we can keep them under surveillance, and be led to him without having to wonder whether or not we are even on the right track."

"How would we go about that? We know nothing about any of these people. Nothing at all."

"But we have something to trace them with. The vehicle those two friends of his drove off in."

"Can it be traced?"

Vire's smile was terrifying. "Of course. The mundanes love to record everything. All you had to do in the old days ways was talk to the right people. Paying them, or harming them also worked. Nowadays, thanks to internet and technology, it is far easier than you would think. I will go and see somebody as soon as possible."

"Excellent. Would you like me to return to our mistresses and report?"

"Certainly."

The Eidolon demon and the faerie split off in different direction, Vire heading towards the nearest entrance to the Fey, while the Eidolon went to find somewhere to hide for the day. He would rendezvous with knight the next day - but for now, he had to check in with his mistress.

.....................................................................................

My Lady? My Queen?

My servant. What news of my son?

He is London, my Lady. We located him at a club. We are tracing him as we speak.

How?

Through his friends. Vire is using his human connections to trace him. Morgenstern has left no personal trace of his comings or going.

As expected. He is not a fool. 

The Shadow World in London seems to be unaware of his presence. We did ask around for any rogue Shadow Hunters. 

It would be unwise to let them even catch wind of his continued existence. They would call the Clave - or slaughter him on the spot. Contact me once you have pinpointed him. We will have to proceed cautiously from there on out. You will rewarded once we succeed. 

My Lady.

............................................................................

Lilith turned to the Queen, who had just entered the room. 

"It appears that he is in London. My Eidolon demon has told me that your man Vire is tracing him. Using human technology."

"It has to be useful for something," she sniffed. "Shall we start making preparations?"

"Of course. Now that we know where he is, it will not be too long before we restore him to his former glory."

"You do realise that it will not be as easy as you make it sound?"

Lilith's expression was terrifying. "That is why it is going to be fun."


	22. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon takes a leap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late - hope you enjoyed.

Jonathon stretched as he looked at the clock on the wall. 

"Anyone want some tea?"

"Sure," Nate and Alyssa replied at the same time. Jonathon got up, and went to boil the kettle, taking care not to brush past Alyssa on the way to the kettle. She was deeply invested in the textbook she was reading, sprawled out across her chair, and what seemed to be half of the floor. Nate was sitting cross legged on his seat, poring intently over something that looked like a mass of lines and numbers to Jonathon. 

Jonathon couldn't help but allow himself a little smile. Here were the first two people that he had ever trusted. The first two friends that he had ever had. The first people that wanted to be around him for just being him. Not like Valentine, who simply used him to as a test subject, and then an obedient pawn in all of his plans. Not like Lilith, who simply saw him as the successor to her kingdom, her first real heir. Not like the Seelie Queen, who was simply just an untrustworthy ally and source of sexual entertainment. Even the Endarkened had simply served him because they had been forced to, rather than having an actual desire to.

Real friends. He wasn't sure he was ever really going to get over that.

And then he had to go and develop feelings for one of them. 

Complications. Complications.

He had tried to work out why he had fallen for her. But he just couldn't. He simply couldn't.

It wasn't just her physical appearance - although Jonathon wouldn't deny for one second that it was a part of it. She was simply gorgeous. Her human glamour put most mundanes to shame - but her true faerie form was just exquisite. Her striking skin, the way her hair framed her face, the planes of which only aided in highlighting the beauty that was found in her eyes. 

But then there was the way her lips curled in that half smile that he loved so much. Almost as if she was laughing at him. Her air of controlled command. Her quick sharp movements, her biting, almost devastating wit. Her straight talking, no nonsense attitude and her penchant for occasionally hitting them to put them in her place; the playful aspect of her that just made him want to laugh.

Placing the teabags in the cups, he poured the scalding hot water over them, placing each of them next to their respective owners, placing the sugar on the table in front of them, amidst all the papers, pens and other educational paraphernalia that had turned the table into what could only be summed up as a mess. 

"Thanks," Alyssa said, not looking up.

Nate just groaned, and put his head in his hands. 

"What? You don't like lemon and ginger?"

"No. Physics."

"You were the one who decided to take it."

"Not all of us are gifted with the skills of language and literature. So we make do."

"But don't you have to do a lot of writing for Art? And Philosophy?"

"Only analyse of techniques and styles, with some comparison. Philosophy is just fun. But Latin? Geography? Death by repetition and boredom."

"I think everything is pretty repetitive at this level of education," Alyssa interjected, not looking up from her book. "Exploration of a subject and a field comes later on. Right now, we just need to pass our exams."

"Was that a polite way of telling us to shut up?" Nate jibbed at her.

Her eyes flickered up. "Yes. I advise that you take the hint."

"Our exams are in a few months."

"Nate..."

"Yes?"

"Shut up." But she was smiling even as the words left her mouth.

He saluted, returning the grin. "Yes, ma'am." And with that he returned to scribbling at his page, as her eyes slid back down to the page. 

Jonathon felt slightly jealous. He wished that was him. That ease. The ability to look her directly in the eye without wanting to kiss her. 

But the other half of him wanted to kiss her. So much. Too much. Wanted her to kiss him back. To hug him the way he wanted to hug her. 

But Alyssa wouldn't want that. Well, he didn't know that. He didn't know that at all. 

It was killing him. 

He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Did he try to find out if she felt anything for him, and possibly ruin the easy and wonderful friendship they had? Or did he just sit there and suffer in silence, his emotions and thoughts stabbing at him when he was with her, and slicing at him when he wasn't?

Jonathon didn't know what to do. 

"Did you say something?" 

Looking up, he met her eyes - her faerie eyes. Damn, but they took his breath away.

"Nope. Not at all."

She held his gaze for a second; he looked away from her, staring back down at his work, still feeling the combination of white, silver and green on him.

He was going to have to be more careful. A lot more careful. But it was so hard. 

...........................................................................

Time elapsed, the afternoon sky rapidly becoming dark as nightfall arrived. 

Alyssa packed up her stuff as the sun set, said her goodbyes and left briskly.

It was both a relief and a loss at the same time. Relief because he was so easily distracted. A loss because... well, because he was glad for the distraction.

He and Nate sat there in silence for a few more minutes, both of them scribbling away at the pages and pages of work they had to do.

"Jon."

"Yeah?"

"Do you like Alyssa?"

He froze. As if he had been thrown into liquid nitrogen. Flash frozen in an instant. 

But he recovered quickly, refusing to look up from his work.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."

"I don't know - I haven't really thought about it." He paused, hoping that he appeared that it was in deep thought. "Now that I have, I guess she's just a friend."

Nate chuckled quietly. "You know, I would almost believe you as well. If I didn't know that little bit better."

"Nate-"

"Seriously." The joking tone left his voice, and it became harder, more serious and slightly more forceful.

"Do you like her?"

Jonathon heard himself saying the words before he could stop himself. He just didn't want to lie to him. Lying was a Sebastian thing. And he didn't want to lie to his friend. The first person who had just accepted him for himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

There was a pause, a pregnant silence that seemed to be waiting to give birth to something.

"Look, I- I just can't help it. I've tried, but she's just so magnetic."

"Jon."

He looked up, not wanting to see his friend's face for some reason - afraid, he realised of what he might see.

Nate was just looking at him as he always did. The same old expression, the same old Nate. 

"Why are you looking at me like that? I'm not going to kill you for it."

"Well..." Jonathon didn't know what to say - so he went for the obvious.

"How did you know?"

"As I said, anyone would have to know you to notice it. And they would have to see you with her, and then compare it to how you were with other girls. I doubt anyone else has even thought of it."

"I've never really..."

"Never really what?"

"Liked someone before."

"I find that hard to believe."

"But it's true. I've hooked up with people... more than I care to admit, but I've never really liked anyone. Not the way I like her."

"Aww. Jonathon's in love."

"Don't tease me. This is embarrassing enough as it is. I really didn't want anyone else to know."

"As I said, I don't think anyone else has even noticed. You're pretty good at disguising it."

"I just... don't know what to do. I could handle it if it was just a physical attraction, but it's so much more than that. So much more. It's not just a physical thing. Not at all." He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head leaning back, feeling the shade of red rising up his neck and cheeks. 

"You know that Matt liked Alyssa."

"No," he said, trying not to sound too interested.

"He asked her out at one point."

"I guess she said no?"

"Yeah. She did. But if you notice, they're still friends."

Jonathon dropped his hands, looking at Nate once more, who was still looking at him. He felt the golden flame flicker and spark in his chest, needing to hear it from his friend.

"Alyssa won't shut you down, or shut you out if you ask her out. She's not like that at all. If she cut off everyone who had a crush on her, or who asked her out, I doubt she have any other male friends except for me."

"You've never had a crush on her?"

"No. Honestly, I'm surprised I haven't. She is gorgeous. But I've just never seen her like that. I'm just not attracted to her. Not in that way. She just always been my friend. My best friend. But she's used to all the attention. If you want to, go for it."

"Isn't this the part where you ward me off from her?"

"No. This is Alyssa we're talking about. If you step out of line, I'll pick up the pieces once she's finished."

"Will there be anything left is the question?" Jonathon got out wryly.

"I shouldn't think so. Just don't be afraid of losing her as a friend. The only way that'll happen is if you turn into a idiot if she rejects you."

"Has she ever said yes to anyone?"

Nate winced. "No. But the fact that you like her - it'll come out sooner or later. She'll work it out at some point - she always does. You may as well let her know on your own terms."

Seeing the look on Jonathon's face, he continued on. "Look, the worst that'll happen is that she'll say no. You're not going to lose her friendship, unless you go all psycho on her. She's really mature. Honestly, you have nothing to lose. As luck would have it, you've fallen for the right girl. But honestly, please don't go all weird afterwards. I really like the three of us together."

"I should be able to manage that. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"I hope so, man. I hope so."

.................................................................................

Jonathon's heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest, crashing against his ribcage. His stomach was full of butterflies, summoning a hurricane inside him, a pounding, brutal storm that filled him with a mixture of dread, nervousness, fear... and more just a little bit of hope. A little bit more than he had expected. 

He was waiting for her outside the school gates. Nate had some extra Maths revision after school, so it was just him and Alyssa today. 

Normally, it wouldn't be such a problem. But today, he was going to take the jump. The plunge. The first leap. 

Why was he terrified?

"Jon."

He turned to see her behind him, her hair held back with her silver clips, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. 

"Shall we?"

"Yeah."

They moved off together, falling in sync with each other without even realising it. 

Jonathon didn't know how to go about it. What did he do - set it up, just blurt it out, go about it in a roundabout way. Alyssa wasn't the type to accept gifts, so he hadn't bought anything for her. He had gone through a thousand scenarios, a thousand responds, a thousand reactions - and he still wasn't ready for what he knew he should be doing. 

So they chatted about unimportant things, until he could almost felt he couldn't take it any longer.

But as usual, she beat him to the punch.

"What's up with you?"

"Nothing."

"If there's nothing wrong with you, then Harrison's not a dickhead. Just tell me what's up. Seriously. Or do I have to drag it out of you? And remember, there's no Nate to distract me, or save you. So how's this going to go? The hard way or the easy way?"

"Look, it's complicated."

She looked at him critically. "More complicated than you previously being Sebastian?"

"No."

"Then spit it out."

He turned away from her piercing gaze, feeling the red rising, somehow managing to continue to walk, until she grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

"We're not moving until you talk to me."

He took a deep breath.

"Look, I don't know how to say this... but... but I like you. I like you."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't let go of him either. 

"I liked you as a friend. I don't know when it developed into feelings... but it did. So, I wanted to ask. Will you- Will you go on a date with me?"

Even as the words came out, he felt his heart speed up, beating at a quadruple beat. But she didn't reply. The silence elapsed between them until it was almost unbearable, until he felt he had to say something.

Obviously she didn't feel the same way about him. Or she just wasn't interested. 

Or she couldn't get over the fact that he had been a mass murderer and was a constant reminder of the world she had tried to leave behind. 

"Um- Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm going to go home. Can we just forget that this happened? There's no reason for this to ruin our friendship. That's what-"

"Okay."

"-I was worried about. I still want to be your friend and all-"

"Alright."

"-but I don't want it to be awkward-"

"Jonathon."

Something in her tone made him turn to look at her. 

"We're going on a date."

"Wha- Wha-" 

"You did want to go on a date with me right?"

"Yeah-"

"So this weekend then? Saturday?"

"Yeah, that should be fine. Wh-Where do you want to go?"

"Surprise me."

And with that, she let go of his hand, and walked off ahead of him, leaving him standing in the street, dumbfounded. 

She turned back, her half smile gracing her face once more. 

"Keep the blush. It's endearing."

She laughed as he blushed even more, and strolled off into the distance.


	23. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathon goes on his first date.

The faerie tapped away the keyboard, gulping as Vire loomed over his shoulder. He had been given a registration number and had been tasked with tracing the car that it belonged to. Normally, that wouldn't be problem. 

It was just slightly difficult with the man standing behind him.

He was well build, and reasonably tall, - and yet it was his very presence commanded absolute attention. It was impossible to ignore him. 

His hair was mid-length, and dark purple that gleamed in the any light that struck it. His face was not as beautiful as most fairy faces, but all the more interesting because of it - it made people look twice. His skin was pale, his eyes a light inscrutable grey, his lips somewhere in between thin and plump. He was toned, and yet muscular and perfect balance of the two - strength and speed combined in one. 

Dressed in armour that looked as if it was fashioned from dark reddish-brown tree bark, and armed with a sword that sat on his hip, and a double bladed axe that sat on his back, the edges of it razor sharp, he cut an intriguing figure. Although he hadn't touched them since he arrived the faerie sitting in the chair still felt uneasy. 

Vire was not someone who you wanted to attract the attention of. He was certainly not someone that you wanted to be displeased with you. 

So the faerie, despite his nervousness, kept tapping away with ever increasing vigour, simply to seem active. The program itself was running regardless of what he was doing (which was writing another program), but it didn't seem wise to simply sit back and let the time pass by as he normally would - not at least with Vire looming over his shoulder, intently watching the screen to see when the results finally popped up. 

The faerie knight was unnaturally still - almost as if he were a statue, his eyes locked onto to the computer unerringly. The faerie was watching his reflection in the solid silver statuette that sat on his desk, and had not seen him twitch once. It simply wasn't normal. 

But then again, the stories that followed him weren't exactly normal either. So in some ways, it wasn't a surprise. 

He was still unnerving regardless. 

"How much longer is it going to take?"

His voice was quiet, and slightly rough, and but still, to the faerie's surprise, quite beautiful. He idly wondered if Vire had ever thought about being a singer rather than knight. 

"It shouldn't be much longer. The program is just bypassing the security systems - once it's done, we'll have a name and an address for the vehicle you want to trace."

Vire didn't respond, and another thirty seconds ticked by, the time feeling quadrupled due to the proximity, and expressionless mask that the warrior behind him wore as his normal expression. 

The ding of the security bypass was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever heard. 

"Is it done?"

"It should be in a few seconds."

Another ding sounded, and suddenly the computer screen was full of boxes that opened and closed by themselves, an invisible hand controlling an invisible mouse manipulated the computer screen at breakneck speed.

The faerie pre-empted Vire's question. "It's cross-referencing the information it got from the number plate across various platforms, just so that we can get the complete picture of who we're looking for."

"I do not need the entire picture. I simply need an address."

Fortunately, before the faerie could gulp, the information appeared on screen the picture of an East Asian woman popping on the screen, her personal information popping up onto the screen for Vire and the hacker to see. 

"Get me a map of the address and the surrounding area."

The faerie tapped away at the keyboard calling up the map service, and inputting the address. Soon, the printer was whirring, spitting out sheets covered in lines and landmarks. 

"Thank you," Vire said, snatching up the papers and strolling out of the door without looking back once. 

The faerie sighed. That had been stressful. 

He just hoped that he never came back.

......................................................................................

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. 

Saturday morning had arrived. And Jonathon was more nervous than he had ever been. 

He was actually going on a date with Alyssa.

His first ever date.

And he didn't know what to do.

He knew where they were going. He had planned out the entire thing, double checking and triple checking the arrangements before he had been satisfied. 

But he still didn't know whether it would work or not. 

..............................................................................................

When he had seen the Nate the next day, and told him that she had yes to a date, his friend's eyes had widened in surprise. 

"Wow. That's unexpected. You're literally the first person that's she said yes to. That I know of anyway. She could've had boyfriends outside of school."

"I need advice. Where do I take her?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"I've never been on a date before. Ever. I don't want to mess this up. And although I know her, I don't know exactly what she likes. I don't know where to take her. You're her best friend, and I'm in desperate need of some tips."

"What, didn't you two of you decide where you were going?"

"She told me to surprise her."

Nate laughed. "Then there's really nothing I can do for you. If I tell you where we'd go to hang out, and you take her there, she won't be happy. When she says surprise me, she means it. This is Alyssa we're talking about. You're going to have to come up with something by yourself."

"Isn't there any hints you can give me?"

"She's not a picky eater. Other than that, her tastes are pretty eclectic. There's no set formula to what she likes. I've never been able to pin them down. We just do stuff, and depending on her reaction, we either go back or we don't."

"That's really not helping."

"Sorry, Jon. Just trust yourself. I doubt she'd have said yes if she wasn't interested - and leaving the venue up to you means she trusts you." He punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Believe in yourself a bit more." 

.....................................................................................

He had scoured the Internet, looking for something, anything that would interest her. She had been normal for the rest of the week, talking to him as she always would, not a shred of awkwardness or unease transmitting from her end to him. 

Jonathon just managed to keep his cool. Not blushing every time he caught her eye was quite a chore, but one that he managed. 

He just hoped that what he had planned would go well. 

Breathing in deeply, and making sure he had everything, he put on his coat and left for the train station.

Walking to the bus stop, he waited for a few minutes, his mind agonising over everything about, even the things that he should find completely irrelevant. But one thing thought pounded through his mind again and again.

Would she like it? Would she enjoy herself?

He really hoped she would.

Stepping onto the bus, he sat down at the back of the bus, looking out at the road as it flew past, the cars rumbling by, the people of the capital streaming past on the pavement, completely at ease. For the moment, he envied them. But on the other hand...

He was excited. More excited than he thought possible. 

The bus pulled in near the station, Jonathon getting off in a daze, looking around for his date. His date. It was such an odd thing for him hear. 

It signified how much had changed for him in the last few months - and all the changes had been for the better. 

Here he was, free of the Shadow World (mostly), no longer friendless, no longer alone. He went to school, played sports, went out and now he had a-

He caught sight of her before he could finish the thought.

Even standing casually, leaning against the wall, he saw the eyes of men and women alike pass over her, as she ineffectively tried to blend in. 

Dressed simply in what looked clean workman boots, paired with white jeans, and a top that was coloured purple, black and blue, the colour intersecting with each other, melding together, as if someone had thrown it and a palette into a tornado. She worn a long coat, patterned in the traditional camouflage colours of the army. Her hair was loose, and some of it hung down past her shoulders, wavy, thick and gleaming in the light. 

Her eyes were closed, and her head was nodding to an invisible beat that only she can hear, her tiny half smile completely entrancing him. 

He walked towards her, his heart beating faster as he approached. Her eyes flickered open in one fluid motion, her eyes moving over to him, the smile not changing at all. 

Jonathon hoped that he looked at composed as he thought he did. 

She flowed off the wall in one fluid motion, her hands going into her pockets, drawing herself up to her full height. 

"Morning," Jonathon said, fortunately managing to sound composed. 

"Hey," she said, tilting her head to one side, seemingly not noticing all the people around her looking at, admiring her. But her complete focused was on him. "So where are we going?"

Jonathon looked up at Waterloo Station. 

"To an island."

"An island? We're going to the seaside?" 

"Not exactly."

.................................................................................................

Jonathon wanted to sigh with relief. This wasn't going as badly as it thought it might have. He had been agonising about what they were going to speak about on the reasonably long ride to the where they were going. 

But they just talked as they always did, her dry, often near brutal sense of humour making him burst out laughing more often than he would've thought possible. People looked him when he did, but he really didn't care. It was just so good to be a ease with her, especially since he had been so nervous about this before. Letting the worries of whether she was going like where they were going slide to one side, allowing himself to just enjoy her company. 

The time flew past - so much so, that he almost missed their station. 

As the doors opened , and the announcement was made, his head snapped up. 

"This is us."

Without even questioning why they had nearly missed the stop, she rose, with all the speed and energy that only the ethereal could possess and stepped off the train lightly, Jonathon following as the seemingly incessant beep of the doors sounded, his feet touching the platform just as they began to close. 

"So are we there yet?"

"Nearly. We just need to catch a bus now."

"Where are we going? I know I said surprise me, but this is..."

"What?" 

"Like something out of a horror movie."

The comparison threw him. "Why?"

"Handsome boy takes a beautiful, defenceless, lonely, innocent girl on a date to the middle of nowhere, I think you can fill in the rest."

Jonathon snorted, stifling a laugh. "I don't think that applies in this situation."

"I don't see the difference," she said, raising an eyebrow, mocking him slightly. "Care to explain?"

"A defenceless, lonely, innocent girl. That doesn't apply to you. At all. Especially the defenceless part."

"How would you know? You've never seen me fight."

"I'm sure you could kick me to Australia and back - and still have energy for another round."

"Maybe we'll have to find out. Oh, and I see what you did there."

Jonathon was confused. "Hmm?"

"You omitted the beautiful. I'd guess that means you think I'm beautiful?"

The colour rose up, his neck, sinking into his cheeks. He tried to force it down, but it wasn't working. What should he say? He did think she was beautiful. Extremely beautiful. But he wasn't sure if she was teasing him or expecting an answer.

"So do you think I'm beautiful?"

What the hell. Go for it.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Yeah, you are beautiful." All the while, he kept his eyes straight ahead, not able to look at her. 

He felt a finger on his jaw turning his face being turned gently but firmly towards hers. 

"Thanks." 

She let go of him, and moved on ahead, towards the bus stop, leaving him standing there until his legs decided to move again.

"And you know what I said about you being handsome?"

"Yeah?"

She didn't say another word, and simply looked over her shoulder at him, and winked, her head turning back around as she continued walking.

Jonathon didn't know how he was going to survive the rest of this date.


	24. The Date Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date continues.

"Thorpe Park?"

"You said to surprise you."

The sign loomed over them, a massive colourful banner to welcome them to a world of wonders. Thorpe Park. Home to rides that attracted hundreds of thousands of visitors each year, and entranced people from all around the UK, and further afield.

He'd looked at the other themes parks - but none of them had seemed thrilling enough for Alyssa. Legoland was for children - although it still looked like a lot of fun. Chessington World of Adventures was still only a few ranks above it, and although Alton Towers was up there, it was still Thorpe Park that attracted his attention most of all. Enough high speed rides and thrills to keep a warrior entertained for a while at least. 

Jonathon didn't know whether she'd been here or not, but had assumed that she hadn't. It didn't seem like something she would bother to do unless she was invited to. So he'd thought that it would be a good place for a first date, especially since she seemed to be looking something a little more unconventional. 

He just hoped that he was right in his choice.

"An amusement park. I remember a time when these didn't even exist. How things have changed."

"Have you been here before?"

"I've never been to an amusement park before."

"Really?"

"Never had any reason to go. Too busy with other things."

"Let's go, then," he smiled at her. "We're burning daylight standing here."

Her half smile reappeared. "My sentiment exactly."

Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out his hand towards hers, taking it loosely in his, giving her the option to pull away. He didn't know why he was doing it. He just wanted to feel her hand in his, the warmth of her skin against his - but he was also ready for her to pull away all the same. He didn't know what possessed him to do it - he didn't know where the bravery had come from - but he hadn't been able to stop himself.

She looked at him, a quizzical look in her eyes, her lips quirking slightly. 

He went to release her hand - until she twisted her hand around taking his hand in hers, not saying a word, and turning away from him, her side profile as beautiful as looking at her head on.

Their hands didn't fit perfectly together, but he didn't care. Their fingers weren't interlaced, but their palms were warm against each other, fingers resting lightly on the back of their respective hands. It wasn't intimate, but it wasn't detached either. 

Either way, he didn't care.

His heart rate had increased slightly, a slight heat running over his body. How could something so simple, just a connection of their hands make him feel so different?

"Come on, Jonathon. Let's go. I take it this is your first time at a theme park?"

"Valentine's School of Brutal Torture ad Brainwashing didn't include trips. Unless they were to historical places or had some type of practical purpose."

"Well, then this is a first for the both of us."

.............................................................................

They were there early, so the queues weren't as long as Jonathon had expected them to be. Yet they still had to wait a few minutes, the mildly cloudy skies occasionally giving them glimpses of sunlight. the day slowly becoming warmer as the time passed by.

"Did you ask Nate about where to take me?" she asked him, after they had stood there for about a minute. 

"Yeah. I know that you said to surprise you, but to be totally honest I was at a complete loss. I know you up to a point - but not to the point where I could surprise you with a trip that you might actually like."

"What did Nate say?"

"That there was no point of him saying anything. You'd know if he did."

She laughed. "That's true. He's never been good at lying to me."

"I honestly did think about a cinema or a restaurant."

"But...?"

"But I can't see you sitting through a film - unless it was an action one. Doomsday came out, but we said that we were going to see that with the guys, so I opted out of that one. And anyway, a trip to the cinema isn't much of a surprise. Same thing with the restaurant. Too pedestrian. There were a few musical events going on in town, but there wasn't enough time to get tickets. Same with most of the other ideas I had."

"So you decided on a trip to a theme park?" she said as they stepped forward. 

"Seemed like the most surprising thing that I could come up with on such short notice."

"I would apologise for that-" she began.

"-but you're not going to," Jonathon finished, allowing himself to smile in amusement, squeezing her hand slightly. Her hands were the hands of a warrior; hard and worn, with slight calluses, not the soft, gentle hands of a maiden that filled the pages of every romance novel, accustomed to holding parasols, books and paintbrushes rather than swords, clubs and other implements of war. 

They suited her perfectly.

She squeezed him back, the motion almost completely unfelt if he hadn't been looking out for it.

Their time in the queue elapsed quite pleasantly, and soon they were there, and strapping themselves into the ride that proclaimed itself as Colossus, as the attendants checked they were in probably. They were lucky enough to be sitting right at the front, and had an unobscured view of the track that lay ahead of them. 

"Don't scream, Jon."

"That's my line, Alyssa."

And with that they were off. On the world's first ten looping rollercoaster.

Up they went, gathering speed until they reached the top, where they paused as the world seemed to take a breath, premature screams sounding behind them.

The next few moments of their lives were a blur. 

They went down, and then up , and around, spinning, looping, twisting, being rattled from side to side as the ride whipped itself into a frenzy of movement, the screams of the people behind him getting louder as the ride went through every single one of its ten twists and turns.

His heart beat faster as the ride went on, adrenaline surging through him as he experienced g-force as he'd never felt it before, the sheer impact of the air forcing him back into his already restricted seat. 

It was exhilarating. He understood why people would queue for hours just to get on rides like this. It was a natural high, the best kind. One that you experience again and again with minimal danger to yourself. Okay, you could die - but it was unlikely. 

He felt the urge to roar, to shout, the scream with pleasure. To just let himself be free, to just allow all the good feeling inside of him to pour out from him into the air. 

So he did. He threw up his hands, and let loose a fearsome cry of pure excitement, letting the wind whistle through his fingers and buffer his arms, not caring for a second about how crazy he looked, completely lost in the spell that this mechanical beast had cast on him. 

He only took a moment to glimpse to his left to see what the Alyssa looked like. Her face was pure joy, as he saw that the endorphins that were running through him were coursing through her veins as well. Mouth opened wide in an howl, that he could barely hear over the wind, and his own cries. Her hands were outstretched in front of her, grasping at the air as they hurtled along, the loose strands of her hair whipping behind her wildly, the two of them completely understanding the other in the moment that eyes met.

Their attention instantly returned to the ride, letting the windmill of fun and speed, whirl them into what seemed like a beautiful oblivion.

Then it was over, the ride slowing to halt as they returned to the dock, getting off in what felt like a happy daze rather than terrified stupor which seemed to be to opinion of some of the people sitting behind them. Expressions on people's faces ranged from one extreme to the other, but neither Alyssa or Jonathon paid any attention to them. They were too busy processing what had just happened. It had been great.

"Again?" Jonathon said, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. 

"Damn straight."

..........................................................................................

"You hungry?" Jonathon asked. 

"Yeah. What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know. I'm up for anything really. I just need something. Preferably something tasty."

"Then why don't we go there?" she said, indicating to a restaurant with a point of her finger. 

"Roast and Relish? What's that?"

"I was looking at it earlier. Apparently, they roast joints of beef and then stuff in baguettes with a range of other things."

Jonathon looked at her, raising an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. 

"Is that really going to be enough?"

"No. And that's the whole point. That'll be our starter. We'll move onto the main course later."

They began to walk towards it, not holding hands this time, which disappointed him more than thought possible. But he didn't want to push his luck too early.

They'd been on the rides all morning. They'd gone back onto Colossus multiple times, the buzz of the ride lifting them up each time, lowering them down as their bodies responded accordingly, their feelings yo-yoing in all direction. Moving on once they felt they could get no more out of it, they visited Nemesis Inferno and Stealth repeatedly as well, both of them giving them different highs that were just as good as the first one.

"I'm paying, by the way. Don't even argue. I won't hear it. I'm just as rich as you are - possibly more so. You've been kind enough to pay for the tickets and the park entrance... the least I can do it pay for what we eat. Which is going to cost a pretty penny, knowing the two of us."

Arriving at the stand, and getting their food, the baguettes stuffed with succulent, honey glazed roast beef and whatever else they wanted, their conversation dying as they dug into their appetisers, the bread, meat and other fillings mixing together to form what could almost be described as a drug, whetting their appetites as they thought about what they were going to eat next. 

"What do you want?" 

Jonathon thought for a second. "Something we can't easily get back home - or haven't really tried before."

"Well," she said scanning the list of restaurants with a long, elegant figure, her eyes narrowing. 

"Hot dogs and fries? I was going to say Mexican, but then again, there are quite a few Mexican restaurants in London. Hotdogs aren't so commonplace in the UK."

"I'm game."

So they wandered over to the get themselves their hotdogs, the two of them both ordering two jumbos each, knowing that they might not be full even after they finished eating. Taking seats around with the other people that were there, ignoring the looks they were getting at the mountain of food they were consuming, completely enjoying the crunchy, salty taste of chips, and, once again, the mixture of bread and meat - but this time with the added flavouring of onions, ketchup and mustard. 

About halfway through, she put down her hotdog, resting it lightly on the table, attracting his attention, the very motion making him look at her twice. Her hair was slightly dishevelled from all the wind that whipped through it. Jonathon remembered how it had looked like a dark, shimmering halo, a dark circlet that floated above her head on the ride. Her eyes were bright, the light in them seemingly coming from within her rather than being reflected. 

"Thanks for bringing me here."

Jonathon shrugged, trying to act with a nonchalance that he really didn't feel. As long as he didn't have time to think about his attraction to her, everything was okay. But it was times like this, in the moments when there was a pause, in the stillness between the two of them, that allowed him to come back to the realisation of how much he liked her. 

"It's okay. Just wanted to do something special..." he trailed off, knowing how he wanted to finish the sentence, but not sure if he could. There were some things that were just odd to say aloud.

Alyssa had no such restraints. At least, not that he knew of.

"With me?"

He nodded furiously chewing on another chip, feeling himself colouring ever so slightly. 

"Why do you always do that?"

"What?"

"Get all quiet and embarrassed."

"I can't help it. I really can't help it."

"Why? Am I your first crush or something?"

He said nothing, going a little more red in the process. 

"Really, Jonathon?" She wasn't being sarcastic, or even mocking. She sounded genuinely surprised. 

"Sebastian... didn't have crushes. He just had sex. He wasn't attracted to anyone. So this is all new to me." He smiled, in spite of himself. "I don't know, it's just a lot."

"Can I just ask you one thing? And remember, I'll know if you're lying."

"Sure."

"Why me?"

Jonathon managed to look her in the eye.

"I honestly don't know. I can't put it into words. It's just a feeling. A really strong feeling. It's something to do with... just you. The way you act, the way you are."

She just watched him, her face, unreadable and serene at the same time. He wanted to ask her how she felt about him - but there was no way he was going to throw that spanner in the works this early on. 

Even if it was just a dream, a temporary illusion, and fantasy - he would live it out till the end of the day. 

"Thank you," she said after a moment. 

"For what?" he said, confused. 

"For being honest."

Then was she eating her hotdog once again, slowly chewing on the food, an absent look in her eye, as if the conversation hadn't happened at all.


	25. The Date Part III/The Night Is Still Young

The rest of the afternoon was full of fun, laughter and screaming as they rode the roller coasters again and again, never tiring of the adrenaline rush that it bought, staying until the rides all shut down. They were one of the last out of the park, laughing as they remember people's facial expressions as they got off the rides, the conversation on the bus on the way back dissolving back to general talk, until they got to the train station. 

"You know what," Alyssa started. "I think I know why we enjoyed that so much."

Jonathon hadn't really been thinking about why they had been enjoying it; but the way she said it made him think that it had been on her mind for a while. 

"Why?"

As normal, she was direct, and straight to the point. 

"The adrenaline rush. The type of high that can only be found when there's some type of risk, or the feeling of that weren't quite safe. The feeling of danger. The feeling that warriors get when they engage in battle. The feeling that you get when your angel blood sings in your veins, or when I fought my comrades at the Knight's Glade, and all the battles that came after that. You know what I mean?"

"Definitely." The natural high that you got when you engaged in battle. He had found it early, Sebastian relishing in the way that both his demon blood and angel heritage had both enjoyed the battles he had. Jonathon had felt it when he was playing some sports, and when he was in the training room - but the closed he'd been to it was when he had stabbed the Vetis demon in the heart in London. 

"It sounds like the beginning of a absurd story. Two trained warriors go to an amusement park-"

"-and find the closest thing to a fighting high, that they didn't even know existed."

"Something like that." He felt her hand slid into his, taking a firm hold of his, firmer than when he had taken hers earlier on in the day. They hadn't held hands for the rest of the day, but he hadn't minded. Simply being with her, just the two of them, happy enough to be in each other's company, sharing a type of pleasure that no-one else that they knew could quite understand. 

But now...

His heart started to beat fast again, the simple touch somehow just as thrilling as the entire day had been. Not more thrilling, and not less so, but different, and equally as good.

They boarded the train, and sat down, as she slid her hand out of his, the disappointment returning just as swiftly as the happiness had come. Was she teasing him? Was it a test?

Or did she honestly just have no idea how much he liked her?

He hoped it was the last one. He couldn't handle the teasing - and if this was a test, he was going to fail miserably; he was far too distracted to even concentrate. 

They chatted more on the way home, aimlessly, wandering round and round topics without getting bored. It was just so easy to be with her, the two of them having an understanding that he couldn't quite fathom. He knew that part of it was based on the fact that they were both from the Shadow World, and that they were both warriors. Yet it still ran more deeply than that, their personalities complimenting each other somehow. 

Arriving back at Waterloo, they got off the train, walking back towards the station entrance. She would go her way, and he would go his. 

Jonathon didn't want that to happen. 

He didn't want the date to end. There was still the whole night ahead of them, and with things so good between them (he hoped) it seemed a shame to just let the momentum go to waste. Nevertheless, the fact still remained that this how he felt; he had no idea how she felt.

Then he couldn't help but laugh, quietly and just a little, but a laugh all the same.

What was the worst that could happen? 

She would say no.

Just a few months ago, he had been a crazed psychopath hell bent of turning the world into a scorched wasteland. Now, he was on a date with his first ever crush, who had, from what he heard, turned down everyone else who had even had the nerve to ask her for some of her time. He'd never have even imagined that she would accept him, and yet here he was. Here they were, together. Whether or not anything else went on past this night, Jonathon knew he would never forget it. Ever.

"What's so funny?"

He turned to Alyssa, whose eyes seemed to dance in the light, as her glamour seemed to peel away, revealing her fairy self, becoming more and more beautiful before his eyes as her brown skin turned to gold, her silver eyes with their green rims and white pupils watching him, the long black hair regaining its midnight blue tinge.

"Just something that was running through my head."

She nodded, recognising somehow that he wasn't exactly willing to share whatever it was with her yet.

It was now or never.

"I'm not going to try and claim that I had anything planned after this, 'cause I really didn't. But I've really enjoyed today-"

"-and I guess that you don't want it to end?"

He managed to hold her gaze. "No. I don't. I have no idea where we to go, or what we could do, but... Let's just see what happens?"

She turned away from him, and his heart sank, thinking that he had pushed too far and too early. Alyssa knew him, but not well enough to want to spend an entire day-

"Well, I know where to go."

Jonathon barely had time to process what she had said before they were heading in another direction, towards the area that led to the Tube, his hand in hers once more.

"So-"

"Yeah, Jon. You get your wish." He couldn't see her face, but knew what expression was on her face. Her beautiful half smile that he loved to look at. It was a shame that he couldn't see it. But it was her next words that really floored him.

"You have me for the rest of the evening. Don't faint or die of happiness - we wouldn't want that. This night might get interesting."

Jonathon wasn't sure he'd be able to comply to that command.

............................................................................

They got off at Piccadilly Circus, but instead of going upward to the streets, they continued underground, heading towards the London Trocadero. Jonathon had heard of the place, and passed it a couple of times, but had never been inside. 

It looked like he was going to end up there now. Or so he thought. 

They went through a pair of automatic double doors, to which he was greeted with an intriguing sight. 

The corridor that led towards Trocadero had significant dip in it on the right hand side, the left side at the normal height , a middle height black railing dividing the two sections, some seemingly random staircases scattered around. Beyond that the corridor continued as normal, heading towards the famous building full of shops, games and a few restaurants.

Yet there was something far more interesting to be found in this strange spot.

Dancers. 

Free styling to a variety of beats as the they played out from a large pair of portable speakers, their bodies obeying them without question, not faltering for a second. They faced off against each other, a subtle aggression combined with mutual admiration and a kinship that was found amongst those who shared similar passions. The sight in itself was memorable. 

But it was what happened next that he knew he would never forget.

Reaching the rail, Alyssa gave him her coat without a word, indicating that he should stay there. Before he could ask what she going to do, she jumped lightly over the railing, landing on the edge of the small dancing area.

And began to dance.

Waiting for but a moment to find the beat, she began to move, slowly at first, building up to the quick moving motions that permeated were general attributed to the urban acts in music, especially those in America.

Jonathon watched, entranced and enthralled as she elegantly and casually moved, completely at ease with the beat, her warrior's grace and faerie heritage lent her abilities that no-one around her could even compete with. 

She attracted interest in moments, eyes finding their way to her involuntarily, unable to look away from the beautiful, excellent dancer that moved before them, completely lost in the music, gone to a world where very few could follow. 

A few of the other dancers noticed her as well, and as the music melded smoothly from one song into another, they decided it was time to shake things up a little. 

A dance battle.

There was a girl first - but Jonathon couldn't have said what she looked like, or what she was wearing. 

He only had eyes for Alyssa. 

The opposing girl was good. Very good. Twists, turns, little tricks, a couple of flips and some low drops created a spectacle that was well worthy of the applause she got. The boy who followed her did the splits, combined with locking and traditional hip-hop to make sure that he entertained the crowd, and earned their pleasure. 

Then it was Alyssa's turn. 

In all honesty, it wasn't fair.

She was decades older than them, and a trained warrior to boot. She was a faerie, the supernatural race known for their legendary parties and their love for fun.

Alyssa became a living piece of art in those few moments, her dark hair swirling around her, using it to her advantage when she tossed her head back and forth, her arms and legs slicing through the air, her feet brushing the ground so lightly, it was if they never touched it at all. She soared into the air on the odd occasion, ignoring the forces of nature as she bent them to her will, her eyes closed the entire time, almost in a meditative state, unable to do to process anything but the show that she was instinctively creating. 

When she finished, the applause was explosive, the wolf whistles and whoops echoing down the corridor, the clapping seemingly incessant. 

Jonathon was loudest of them all.

.........................................................................................

"I didn't know that you danced," he said as they walked back to the train station.

"Nobody really does. Except for Nate. But he's never seen me dance like that before."

"How come?"

"I don't know... It just didn't seem right to show him. I know that sounds odd, but that's the simplest and easiest way for me put. I wasn't sure he would be able to understand it. He'd understand that it was fun - but he wouldn't completely comprehend what it meant."

Jonathon was about to protest that he didn't - and then realised in an instant that he did. The complexity of what she did, the motions, the movements... Something only a gymnast, another dancer, or someone of that ilk could fully understand what she was doing. How freeing it was, how much emotion and passion was attached to something that to most people looked like simple, organised movement. 

Another person who might understand would be a fellow warrior. 

Him. 

He felt strangely honoured, and the flames of golden hope in his heart burned that ever so slightly brighter, more brilliant than before.

But Alyssa wasn't finished with him yet. 

"Come on. We have one more stop to make tonight."

"Which is-"

"Just come on!" she said, dragging him along. "Let me surprise you."

"You already have."

"Well, this one will last longer."

He strongly disagreed.

....................................................................................................

Another train ride later, and a walk down a rather long road, and they were standing in front of a store with a white and blue sign, completely glass fronted. 

"Beigel Bake?"

"Just wait out here."

She left him outside, and went to join the lengthy queue in the shop, leaving him slightly bemused and bewildered outside. He was quite hungry actually, but he wasn't sure how visiting a bagel shop was going to help his pangs. It was a snack at most. 

He began to reconsider this opinion when Alyssa reached the front of the queue, and after a few moments, emerged carrying a massive bag of something that smelled really, really good. 

"What is that?"

"Sausage rolls, salf beef, salmon and cream cheese... I thought that that should be enough to tithe us over till morning. From the most legendary bagel shop in London. Beigel Bake, of Brick Lane."

"What's so special about it?"

"It just is. It's part of the landscape, part of the territory, that gets introduced to generation after generation of Londoners."

He took his first bite as they walked back towards the train station. Conversation stopped as he finished one salt beef bagel, marvelling at the amount of meat that had been stuffed inside, almost flinching as the mustard seemed to detonate inside the top of his skull, the tangy flavour perfectly balanced with everything else. 

When he had finished, Alyssa nudged him as they walked. 

"So. How was it?"

"Great. Do you have anymore?"

"Hold up," she half smiled. "Try a sausage roll first."

By the time had arrived back to where they would part ways, the bag was empty, their stomachs full, and both of them very satisfied. 

"Well..." Jonathon began, suddenly feeling awkward. "Well, thanks for a great day. I had a great time."

"So did I."

He felt himself about to go red, so he lunged in before he could.

"Can we do this again sometime?"

She paused for a moment, the anticipation killing him. 

How could her silence be so powerful, so deadly?

"Yeah. I'd like that, Jon."

Before he could think on an appropriate response, she leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek, before turning and walking away, waving over her shoulder with her fingers.

"See you later, Jon."


	26. Changing Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that you enjoy.

Jonathon reached his house, and slipped inside silently, still absentmindedly touching his cheek were Alyssa's lips had touched him.

He had stood there for what seemed like some time after she had left him at the station, his face tingling. When he had snapped out of his daze, he realised that he'd only been there for a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. 

She had kissed him.

On the cheek, yes, but she was the one who had kissed him. 

The warmth that had run through his body had been amazing, as if he had stepped out into the midday sun. He felt slightly disorientated all the way home, not knowing whether he had been coming or going.

He didn't want to assume that she liked him. 

But the golden flames of hope in him wouldn't listen to reason. They danced, consuming his fears as fuel, laughing at his doubts. Jonathon couldn't help but smile. He hadn't expected the day to go so well. Yet it had - and even when he had thought he had been pushing his luck when he asked if she wanted to spend more time with him, it had all worked out fine.

Damn, was he lucky. 

He'd really enjoyed himself. He hadn't been joking when he told her that. Not in the slightest. He just hoped that she had really understood that he meant it. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to clear the fog of thoughts that was clouding it. It had been a good day.

He should just leave it at that. 

............................................................................

"Is this the place?"

"That is the address that was found. Besides, there's the vehicle," Vire replied.

The black car sat in the driveway, the windows reflecting the dim light that filtered through the small gaps in the heavy, ornate curtains that obscured the inside of the home from view. 

The Eidolon demon and him stood across the street from the house, concealed from mortal eyes - not that really needed to be. All seemed to be quiet in this part of the world, with only occasional car, and less than occasional person passing by. In either case, both were so fixated on wherever they were going, or what they were doing, that he doubted they would've even noticed them had they been visible for all and sundry to see.

"We should really check to be sure."

Vire snorted. "And how are we going to that?"

The Eidolon demon looked at him sidelong, his eyes narrowing as he did so. 

It began to walk across the road, stepping down from the raised pavement into the road casually, the motions calm, composed and languishing. 

As it stepped into the road, and took a step, its form began to ripple and bubble, like pot of steaming water on a stove, the already unremarkable outline rippling, as if Vire was looking at him through the smog that used to cover London all those years ago. The Eidolon was a mass of swirling colour, a humanoid blob that continued to walk across the road even as he changed. 

Then it was shrinking, becoming shorter, solidifying once more as shoulder length blond hair grew out of its head, its body becoming more slender and stereotypically feminine. Clothing not unlike the garments that he had seen the mortals wearing in the clubs appeared on its body as it turned and smiled at him, the last indistinguishable features on its face clarifying into those of young woman. 

The transformed Eidolon demon strolled up to the door, Vire following invisibly behind it, having a good idea of what it was going to do, but not quite certain he could believe it. He had heard, of course, of the powers that Eidolon demons possessed, but hearsay and visual evidence were to completely different things. 

Just as approached the door, Vire heard the demon start to sniff, and make whimpering noises that were halfway between a gasp and a hiccup.

Vire almost smiled.

Knocking on the door with weakly, ringing the bell a couple of times, giving the hint of desperation. 

A voice called from behind the door, the peephole opening. 

"Who's there- Oh!"

The peephole dropped down, and the door was flung open by the lady that they had seen driving the car that had picked up the child of Lilith's friends. 

"My poor girl! What happened?"

He couldn't see the Eidolon demon's face. But he could imagine what she looked like. Forlorn. Unhappy. He saw the a single splash on the ground, as a crocodile tear falling on the ground, as the Eidolon demon began to give a performance that was inspiring. 

"My boyfriend picked me up... And then we argued... He... He... Shouted at him. And threw me out of the car..." The demon leaned against the wall, completely overcome with feinted emotion. 

"My bag was still in the car... With my phone... I can't get home, I'm so far away..." She gave a little wail, and slumped a little further, tears now splashing in the ground at her feet. 

The lady didn't hesitate for a minute. 

"My poor girl. You've got one of those scumbags? You deserve so much better. Come in, come in, you can use our phone, and call someone to come and help you."

"I just need to call a cab-"

"Of course, of course. Stay a little while, have a drink, or something. Yi, Yi," she shouted, gently bringing the Eidolon demon inside, closing the door firmly behind them. 

Vire had to admit. He was impressed. 

.....................................................................................

Forty five minutes later, the Eidolon demon emerged from the house, looking completely refreshed and happy. 

"Thank you so much," it called though the front door, as the mother and daughter appeared in the door way, waving her off. "It's so lovely to meet nice people. And don't worry, I'll take your advice. My boyfriend is already my ex. Thank you!"

They went back inside and closed the door, waving her off as the demon walked down the road.

It kept the absurdly happy smile on its face as it approached Vire.

"That was painful."

"How so? You looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Don't make me laugh. Humans are extremely predictable creatures. Their thoughts are so primitive - but then again, it isn't really their fault. Their life spans are so short that they spend time focusing on all the little, unimportant things, rather than focusing on the big picture. But what truly tickles me is how gullible they are. I've used variants of that act on so many people, all over the world. And it works, almost all the time. I have bought down fortress and rulers with that song and dance."

"This is why humans are the weakest species on the planet," Vire replied. "They wish to help the vulnerable rather than to eradicate them."

"Exactly." The demon rippled, turning to Vire as he did, reverting to the form that it had been in before. "And they've only gotten worse as time goes on."

"Which is why one day, they will be swept away."

"They've survived long enough, even with that mentality."

"I think that if our mistresses have our way, that could change quite rapidly. So what did you find out?"

The Eidolon smiled. "They were very talkative. It used to be that I'd have to prod and pry to get information out of strangers. Nowadays, they just want to tell you everything and anything. Praise the age of oversharing."

"Well then?"

"I asked her about her pass times and such. She's one busy little mundane. Bassoon, rock climbing, days in a financial office... But out of all of them, none of the sounded like anything that the son of Lilith would be doing."

"So?"

The Eidolon's smile widened. 

"Then we spoke about her school. Apparently she attends the Isamband Brunel High School, which isn't too far away from here. And apparently, a new student joined at the start of the year. Mysterious son of European man who has to go abroad all lot of the time for work. Charming, polite, good looking. Intelligent. Sound familiar?"

"Refreshingly so," Vire replied. "And how will we confirm that it is him?"

"I'll infiltrate the school at the start of the week."

"But we must know our terrain before we go blundering in. Did you get the location of this establishment?"

"I saw the address on one of the letters that was attached to the fridge. From what I remember, it is on the map that your colleague gave us. Not too close, but not too far."

Vire pulled out the map, and handed it to the Eidolon. 

"Lead the way."

...................................................................................

The two of them arrived at the school, the high gates proving to be no problem for either of them, both of the scaling it with an ease that would've made a professional rock climber jealous. Landing silently on the other side, they began to wander around the cluster of buildings that formed the mundane school. 

"This where the mundanes receive their educational instruction?" Vire sneered, looking around. "How things have changed in this primitive race. They seem to have gone backward rather than forward." He looked disdainfully at the colourful posters on the wall, as well as the list of school values and rules that were pinned up all about the premises. 

"You know that they no longer allow beatings?"

"Nothing surprises me about them anymore," the faerie knight replied. "Humans have no sense of order, or discipline." He smiled mirthlessly. "It was considered a badge of honour to display the scars of your beatings from the Knight's Glade. Those who never did anything to earn a beating were never considered to be true knights. Even by some of the masters." 

"Interesting." The Eidolon looked around, gazing from ceiling to floor. "I'm almost disappointed. I would've expect the son of Lilith to be up to something a little more upbeat - not studying as mundane in a school."

"If he wanted to hide, he chose the perfect place. He's amongst people his age, all day, every day. As long as he doesn't cause any trouble, no one will come looking for the parents that he doesn't have. He fits into to system rather than standing out from it."

"But we still found him. Whether it was by luck or fate, he has still been located."

"So we think."

"I'm sure you and I both will be able to confirm it on Monday."

"How will you be able to confirm it? Demons can't go out into the sunlight, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, we can. But Lilith was once human. Her blood is special, and with it, I will be able to take a short walk in the daylight, with some discomfort."

"For how long?

"Not very long. But more than long enough to find out about him. I will have to be careful though. Nephilim can sense demons. If I draw his attention, he will recognise me - and probably bolt as the game will be up."

"How will you avoid that happening?"

"I know how these schools work. I think I can make it happen. I might need a little help though."

Vire's expression was all the more sinister in the dim light. 

"That won't be a problem." 

.............................................................................

Alyssa sat on her bed, reading a book in the faerie language. Eventually, she shut the book, and sighed. 

How did one Nephilim manage to get under her skin with such ease? And the son of Valentine at that? 

He was just so... Jonathon. That was the only way she could describe him. He was quick, charming, and surprisingly funny. Intelligent, as expected. Taller than she had expected. Stunningly handsome, just to rub it in as well. For a Nephilim anyway. He was also a warrior of the Shadow World, like her, which allowed them to understand each other in ways that she could never really share with anyone else, not even Nate. 

It was why she had took him to the dance off. Because he would understand. 

Her human friends were great; she cared for them dearly. But the fact that she had someone who knew the side of her that was such an integral part of her being, the side she'd kept away from everyone else - well, it was a relief. 

There was also a kindness about him that was just so easy, so natural, so beautiful, that it made him seem all the more desirable. It was also one of the reasons why she pulled away from him at the start. He was just so good at getting around the barriers she had placed up - and he wasn't even trying to, completely oblivious to the effect that he had on her.

She slapped her forehead. 

When had she last been so mushy?

Not for a very, very, long time. 

Sighing again, she picked up her book, once more, burying herself in the pages. 

Falling for someone was never fun. 

Especially when it was so easy.


	27. Contact Sports

Jonathon was watching a film when the message arrived. 

It was the day after his date with Alyssa, and he was still slightly high of the euphoria from the past night. 

He had finished most of his homework off, and was lazing around in the small front room, watching the TV, and finishing off the last remaining piece - a philosophy essay that he was just editing, adding to it, and crossing out sentences that didn't completely make sense when he read them back to himself. 

His elegant script was slashed out, the corrections written above in the same cursive, his writing the envy of many of the girls in the school, jealous of the way he formed his letters, as well as the size and spacing of his words. They cooed over it, asking him often just to borrow his books so that they could just look his handwriting. 

If only they knew what he had go through to get it to such a high standard.

As he had been nearing the end of his essay, his phone beeped. Memorising the few changes that he still needed to make, Jonathon grabbed his phone from off the sofa next to him, unlocking it without even looking at the screen. 

When he did look down, he nearly dropped the phone in surprise.

It was a simple message. Just one sentences long. But it was more than enough to floor him. Ten words.

Do you mind if I come over for a bit?

She wanted to come over? But why? What did she want? Why did she want to come over, especially so soon after their first date? Did she want to tell him it was all a mistake? That they should just be friends? That she had misjudged- Jonathon paused mid thought. Why were these all negative?

As soon as he thought it, the golden flames that just wouldn't leave him alone began to dance to their own tune, sending other thoughts through his mind, the maelstrom of his consciousness beginning throw all sorts of hypothetical situations. Some of them were enough to make him blush slightly. An overactive imagination was the last thing he needed. 

But one constant thread tied them all together, a common theme the whole way through. The one thing, above all that he was secretly wishing for. 

Could it be that she just wanted to see him again?

Okay. Calm down. She probably was just bored, and wanted a change of scenery. He shouldn't think so deeply into it. He was definitely overanalysing the entire thing. 

It was just a friend, wanting to see a friend. 

So why did he feel so elated about it - while feeling such a high level of trepidation at the same time?

He picked up his phone - sent back a short message of his own, not trusting himself to send a lengthy reply. Not that it was necessary to send back anything long.

Sure. When are you coming?

He wasn't expecting a response so swiftly. And when he opened the message and read it, he couldn't help but laugh.

I'm already on my way. Give me a few minutes.

That was so Alyssa. Just one of the many things that made her so endearing as an person. 

Jonathon looked around the slightly messy room, wondering if he should tidy up at all. Then he smiled to himself, shrugging it off. She wouldn't care about something like that. 

He remained where he was a few minutes, nervously allowing his hands free reign to run through his hair, absentmindedly picking things around him up, and putting them down, not moving from where he was sat, drifting off into a liminal state of deep thought and hyper awareness.

The chime of his doorbell changed all that. 

Before he realised what he was doing, he was on his feet and by the door.

In his dream state, he reached out to open the door, not quite realising what he was doing as he opened to door, still not completely sure that this was him opening the door, and not some detached version of himself that he had no control over.

And then the door was open. 

There she stood. 

Simple as always. Black tracksuit bottoms, grey top, black coat, with simple red patterns around the cuffs and the hems - a mixture of elegant and casual that suited her perfectly. Something that only she could pull of so effortlessly.

This time her hair was tied back in a bun, resting at the back of her head comfortably, a few loose stands trailing down. 

"Hey."

"Hi. Are you going to let me in, or do I have to stand outside all day?"

"Sorry," Jonathon replied, moving across slightly so that she could come through. But he caught her little half smile, telling him all he needed to know about what she had just said. 

He couldn't help but smile himself.

"Do want something to drink?" he called after her as he shut the door, somehow feeling as if he had returned to his corporeal form in that instant, the detached feeling releasing him, allowing him to feel more grounded once more. 

"Yeah. But don't bother. I know where everything is. I can get it myself."

"You sure?"

"I'm not a invalid."

"I never implied you were."

By now he had joined her in the kitchen, and leaned against the door frame, content just to watch her as she moved, almost dancing around the table in the small room, so controlled were her movements. Opening the fridge, she removed the orange juice, and taking a tall glass from the draining board, turned it the right way up, and poured the slightly acidic juice out, the tangy smell wafting across to him. 

Placing the carton down on the working surface, she drank long gulps from the glass. Jonathon couldn't help but watch the way her throat moved, the muscles flexing with every swallow, as she tipped her head back slightly, and her arm even further, the sleeve of her jacket sliding down slightly to reveal her strong arms, the veins beneath the skin slightly raised.

Even in doing something so simple, she was truly beautiful. 

Alyssa's glamour started to fade as she drank, her skin and hair changing back to their original form, her eyes being the last thing about her to change. 

She finished drinking as placed the glass down. 

"Do you mind if I have a little more?"

"Not at all."

She only poured herself only a half cup this time, and leaned back, sipping it more slowly than she had the first, seemingly enjoying every mouthful she took. 

"So, to what do I owe the impromptu visit?"

She shrugged. "Why do we do anything we do?"

"That's quite a broad question. And you're avoiding answering mine."

Nodding her assertion, she finished her orange juice off in silence. Her body was unusually... tense he realised. There was something about her stance that was all coiled up, as if she was ready the unleash something at a moment's notice. It did not show on her features, and barely showed in the way she held herself.

But he could tell there was something up. 

And then she looked at him, directly into his eyes, something about the gaze forcing him to look at her, completely unable to break from looking at her.

Jonathon could only hope that the emotions he was feeling weren't written all over his face. 

"Spar with me."

It took a moment for him to realise what she was asking. It registered, and yet it floated in the liminal state that he once again found himself in.

"I- What?"

"Spar with me."

He managed to come out again, returning to reality. 

"Why?"

"I haven't had a proper fight in a while - and I need a good workout."

"But-" He still didn't understand. "Why now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've known you for more than a few weeks now. Why all of sudden now?" After-" He bit off the rest he was going to say, knowing that it didn't sound mature at all. Yet he still wanted to know. 

After their first date. After all the fun they'd had in the theme park. After he'd seen her dance. 

After she had kissed him. 

On the cheek - but it was still something that he would never forget. 

How could he?

Now she wanted to spar with him? It didn't add up.

"Did I do something to upset you?"

Now it was her turn to looked surprised and confused. 

"What do you mean?"

"Did I do something that made you mad? You look tense. And not particularly happy."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do I ever look happy? Even when I'm happy?"

He had to smile at that one. "Not really." 

The tiny half smile returned to her face. "Stop reading into it. Just... do this for me. Okay? I need this, Jon."

He didn't know what else to do.

"Alright then."

......................................................................

Ten minutes later, he stood in the room, having changed into a thin, light t-shirt, and tracksuit bottoms of his own. Alyssa had taken off her top, revealing a sleeveless vest underneath, completely comfortable to do so in front of him. 

"Swords?" she asked, as she walked over to the wall. 

"We can start with swords. Feel free to switch whenever you get bored."

"Agreed. Which one do you like the most?"

He pointed to the a sword that looked particularly simple, until you got to the hilt; a beautiful golden and adamas combination with the falling stars of the Morgenstern's engraved on its hilt. 

She snatched it from the wall, tossing it to him, while she snatched another sword off the wall, in one sinuous, flowing motion that suddenly became a charge as she raised at him. 

Jonathon had expected nothing less. 

Her blade sailed down, as his flicked around, the screech of metal deafening to their enhanced ears as the edge of her blade collided with his, the shriek emitting from her blade heightening as it moved down his. Jonathon forced her razor sharp blade away from him, in turn forcing her backward. With an almighty shove, he sent her backward, thrusting at her with his blade - a futile gesture. Metal collided once more, as she batted at his blade deflecting it, leaving him open to a wicked strike. 

He ducked under it, attempting to sweep her legs out from underneath her. It would've worked as well - had she been there. With a grace and an ease that defied logic, her legs were suddenly not there, and he was rolling away as her blade stopped just an inch from where it had been.

Jonathon got to his feet, and looked at her. 

Her face was composed, beautiful, regal and terrible all at the same time. An Athena with the face of Aphrodite. 

Somehow, he knew the same look was his face as well. Except for the beautiful part. Handsome, if he was lucky.

His angel blood was singing, and even though he not as fast or a strong as he had been when he had been Sebastian, he somehow knew that he it would've made little difference. Her skill and speed were astonishing. From the first few blows, Jonathon knew that he was facing a formidable opponent. 

Nothing better than a fierce warrior to brush of the rust.

An overhead strike, into his swift block, and twist; and her fist lashed out, his hand whipping out to deflect her strike, as he took a step back, and then swung at her once more. 

They went back and forth, the two of them spinning and slashing, chopping and slicing, the clang of metal against metal sending shivers up and down their spines, as their warrior's souls began to call to each other. 

Jonathon was the first to lose his sword. 

One moment it was in his hand; the next, it was clattering into to the ground and he was flipping backward as Alyssa charged forward. He twisted around her somehow; going as close to the wall as he could without ripping himself to shred on the weapons that hung there.

He knew what he was going for.

And he made it - just in time. 

Whipping around, he crossed the twin daggers across above his head, the blades catching the sword in between them. The dance began in earnest, Alyssa now wielding her sword swiftly to keep up with the whirlwind that Jonathon had become, as he deftly used the small but solid blades to keep her at bay, the longer sword suddenly more a hindrance rather than a help. Yet she still wielded it with aptly, eventually leaping backward and hurling it at him. Dodging it with ease, he didn't watch it embed itself in the floor, instead watching her snatch an adamas staff from the wall, twirling it around her fingers. 

Her sudden attack almost caught him off guard, as she forced to retreat slightly as the she spun the staff like a dervish, her ability to hold the weapon almost anywhere along its length making him realise that it might be time for a change of his own, as she curbed his movements at a distance. But he persisted on for a few minutes, relishing in the complexity of the battle, and the disadvantage he was at, the holy material and the runed metal scrapping against one another.

Jonathon then charged at her - and launched himself over her even as she spun the staff at him, directing it upwards. The daggers intercepted the strike, but he lost them in the process, the force of the resulting attack flinging them out of his hands. 

He didn't care. 

Racing to the wall, he swiped a long handled axe, and placing two hands on the shaft, used it to block the sideways swipe that was coming his way. A clacking sound filled the room for the next minute or so, the occasional ringing of adamas against adamas ringing out when the head of the axe met the staff. 

Jonathon felt alive. His body was on high alert, his synapses firing off commands before he could even think, his eyes and ears processing information at a rate that any average human would find incomprehensible. He could hear the his heartbeat, pounding away as he fought, simply enjoying the thrill of the battle, knowing that he wasn't going to die if he made a mistake.

Not that he intended to make any mistakes. 

But even if he didn't, this wasn't going to be easy match to win.

His opponent was fearsome, her form near perfect, her strikes perfectly executed. 

Even so, he wasn't going to give up so easily. 

But eventually, she would not be denied. 

He wasn't quite sure how it happened - but he was suddenly on the floor, his forearms unable to move, as the staff was pressed about halfway down them, her shins pressed down on his knees, preventing him from moving. 

Her face was over his, her hair having come loose in the battle, falling around her shoulders, looking down at him expressionlessly, a few thin beads of sweat on her forehead, a thin sheen gleaming in the light.

Damn.

He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see how much he felt for her. 

"You win, Alyssa," he managed to get out, the heat of her body searing him, her closeness almost intolerable. 

"No, Jon."

Her voice was so quiet, that he thought she hadn't spoken at all.

"You win."

And with she bridged the gap between them, and kissed him.


	28. Chain Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time.

Her lips met his - and his world imploded. Then it exploded. Then it imploded again. It went on and on, as their lips met, each motion making him spin further and further into the new universe that was being born in this instant. 

His heart pounded hard, a pulsating boom that shook his entire frame, his body arcing towards her, straining against the staff that held him captive. Her hair tickled his face, sending tingles of pleasure through his nervous system, galaxies exploding before his closed eyelids. 

The staff slid way from his forearms, the cold adamas falling off to the side, allowing him to reach up and place her hands on her arms, running up and down her upper arms, the muscles that moved there so perfect, so formed and toned. He moved down, running his fingers running down over her ribs, down to her hips, as her hands went to his upper arms, as she remained hovering over him, not allowing herself to collapse on him. 

She tasted like nature - honey, cinnamon, the smell of freshly cut roses surrounding her as their hands ran over each other. Moving to the side, she rolled over, pulling him onto his side as well as her hands moved round to his back, playing across the corded and scarred tissue with a touch that alternated between light and firm, while he kept his hands on her arms, not wanting to be too greedy so early on with his fantasies that was just coming to life. 

And all the time they kissed, her lips searing him, soft, but not as soft as they looked, as if the diamond core that was an essential part of Alyssa applied to her both in both the physical and metaphorically sense. 

It suited her perfectly. 

But he couldn't help but shiver as her hands slid down the bottom of his t-shirt and under his clothing, her skin meeting his, floating over his abdomen and pectorals , whilst the other moved the deep V in his back, making him gasp into her mouth and arc towards her, his chest meeting hers, the contrast of soft and solid literally making him wonder whether he was going to survive this with his mind completely intact.

Sebastian had never had anything like this. He had sex - but he'd never really been attracted to anyone. He'd never been this close to someone he actually cared about. 

It was a vastly different experience. A new plateau of feeling. 

Jonathon felt himself stiffen. He couldn't help it - and he'd been holding out well enough, content to just make out with her, and not freak her out, or ruin whatever they had by appearing to be uncontrollable or too eager. He wasn't sure if they had anything yet - and he didn't want to wreck that potential by being to trigger happy. 

But when Alyssa pulled him into a sitting position, and she sat on his crossed legs, running a hand through his air, and finger down his spine, he couldn't help it. He felt the blood flow in, as she kissed him, and before he could do anything about it, she had moved closer to him. 

It was impossible that she hadn't felt it. 

He started to pull away, feeling himself flushing with embarrassment as seemingly paused, noticing what had happened. 

But what happened next was truly something that he'd never forget.

The hand on the back of his head held him place as she continued to kiss him, not missing a beat. Her other hand ran down his spine to his tracksuit bottoms - and didn't stop there. It dipped under the elastic waistband, one finger at a time, as it simultaneously slid round. 

He couldn't help it - his eyes flew open and stared at her, pulling away from the magnetic pull of her mouth in the same instant, knowing what was about to happen and not sure if he could handle it. 

Her faerie eyes met his, holding his surprised and almost frightened gaze as he went even redder caught halfway between caution and desire. 

But before he could process what he was about to say, she reached him, taking his stiffening length in her hand, the palm over the head, while the fingers had their way with his shaft, slipping around and down him, and back up again. 

Just as Jonathon was about to squeak or gasp, or make whatever noise was going to come out of his mouth, she was kissing him again, melting the last few minute protests he had in an instant. 

Before he knew what he was doing his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her to him in a vice grip as he squirmed with pleasure from her touch, one arm wrapped around her back, the other caressing her neck, unable to hold himself back any longer, her free hand gripping his hair hard. It felt so good as she pushed herself into him, her other hand constantly moving making him shudder, breaking out into a little sweat. 

Their kisses became more aggressive, more passionate, and more wild, all at the same time, their fingers beginning to dig into each other as they got more and more lost in each other, the two of them beginning to pant into each other, Jonathon's heart beginning to beat faster and faster as she went on. 

She broke away from him for a moment, holding his head still by his hair, their eyes burning into one another.

"Touch me."

It was a command - one that he desperately wanted to follow.

Jonathon's hand moved of its own accord, sliding its way into her clothing heading straight towards her. She twitched into his grasp as he caressed the lips, the warmth both comfortable and intoxicating. A finger slipped inside, and then another as the other fingers continued to caress her lips, his thumb brushing over her clitoris, alternating between hard and soft, just as she brushed a finger under the head of the helmet, pressing it slightly running her fingers around the edge. 

The two of them mewled into each other, their kisses becoming more and more frantic with each passing moment. 

As they came close, they broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other the dark blue-black hair and white blond mixing, silver and green staring into each other, the two of them completely unable to think about anything else, completely incapable of breaking off from each other, the inexplicable force binding them refusing to let them go, not allowing them to be distracted for a second. 

Somehow, it was more intimate then when they were kissing, their eyes not moving an inch as their breathing became more and more laboured, the two of them unable to stay still as the electricity that crackled between them refusing to let them stay still for a moment. 

Then they came. 

It was the most intense orgasm he had ever had.

He physically convulsed, their lips meeting together again as they both went blank, lost in the pleasure of each, completely drowning in the emotions that they were feeling. Their muscles moved involuntarily, twitching impulsively as the their minds and their very souls went to high that could only be achieved with someone else that you cared about. 

When his eyes came back from rolling in the back of his head, and his mind returned to its usual place, he found that his head was resting on her shoulder, while her chin rested lightly on his shoulder blade. Their hands hadn't released each other, hers still wrapped around his shaft, his fingers still deep inside her.

They sighed deeply, contentedly, lapsing into silence before Alyssa squeezed him slightly. making him gasp as slid her slick hand up and down his length, which was beginning to soften slightly, but not totally. He moved his fingers in response, eliciting a twitch of her hips, as well as her bending down her head to nip at his shoulder. 

"Fuck you, Jonathon Morgenstern. Fuck you." The words could've been seen as offensive, but they way she said them told him she was more amused than upset. 

"We didn't do that."

"I know. I plan to string you along for a bit."

Jonathon gave a fake groan, nuzzling her neck with his face, the two of them just sitting there the force that kept them together not letting them move apart, their free hands still caressing each other, the other digits soaking wet and unwilling to move.

Eventually, Alyssa removed her hand from his trousers, and he followed suit, both of them somewhat reluctant, but realising that the moment was over.

"Right then," Alyssa said. "We need to get changed," she said, smirking at him. "You look like you've wet yourself."

"It's not just me."

She looked down - and laughed. 

"Touché. And then we need to talk."

"I'm good with that. Although, I don't know what we need to say to each other."

"There's always something to say, Jon."

....................................................................................

When Jonathon came downstairs, he found her lounging in a chair, her feet resting on another, looking ridiculously, effortlessly graceful, especially after the newly, dishevelled version of her he'd just recently seen. 

Both of them suited her perfectly well, and just made her all the more attractive. 

Jonathon wanted to laugh. What would his father had said, with his son falling in love with a faerie?

He could only imagine - but why was even bothering with that now?

Today was the day of his first make out with somebody that he actually liked. The first time he been intimate with someone he liked. 

It was a completely different experience for him - and although he wanted to repeat it, he was going to try to keep himself well under control while they spoke about what was going to happen next.

"Drink?" he asked. 

"I'm alright," she replied, giving him her half smile again, her faerie form looking more and more beautiful to him with every passing second. "I think we've established that we like each other. So what do you want this to be?"

He started for a moment, the question catching him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Are you just physically attracted to me? Or is there an emotional component to it as well?"

"It's more than just a physical thing. Definitely not just a physical. Honestly, there's just something about you that's..." he broke off, and he couldn't help the wide grin that crossed his face. "You just make me feel different. Happier, somehow."

Jonathon dreaded to ask - but since she had asked the question, he had know. 

"What about you? Is it... emotional or just physical?"

"Honestly, at first, it was just a physical thing. You are very handsome. Very, very handsome. And you're a warrior to - something else that I find attractive in both men and women. Someone who can fight, whether it is in mind or spirit. It's just something I find sexy."

"But then I got to know you. And although you're a warrior, born, bred and beaten, you're also unusually kind. I'll admit that half of my coldness towards you when we first met was because I was worried that you were faking it all. But when I realised you weren't... Well, I think what just happened is pretty much says it all. Which means we're not just going to be friends with benefits."

"I wouldn't want that," Jonathon said, suddenly feeling brave, elated beyond all imagination that his feelings had been somewhat reciprocated. The golden flames of hope burned even brighter, and yet they were brittle. He knew what he was about to ask could end badly, or kill the mood, but he just had to do it. 

"Alyssa, will you go out with me?" 

The question seemed to suspend time and space, as she looked at him, and then smiled. 

Not her small half smile. A full smile, teeth and all, turning her face into something that could only be described as radiant. She stood up, and leapt over the table, almost seeming to materialise in front of him. 

"I'm not known for my particular skill will relationships."

"I haven't had one before. Not one that involved emotions anyway."

"I'm prone to violence when annoyed."

"It's a good thing I know how to dodge."

"I'm not the best with presents, words or emotions."

"I think I can handle that for the both of us."

She kissed him again, her lips setting him on fire again, the nearness of her making him want to hold her to him until she forced him to let go.

"Then, yes, Jonathon Morgenstern. I'll go out with you."


	29. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First days are not always so smooth.

Jonathon whistled as he went to school, unable to control himself. 

His smile was felt wider than he remembered, his heart lighter than it had ever been. 

He had a girlfriend. 

His first girlfriend. 

They had spent the rest of the time she was with him cuddled up next to each other, the two of them mildly entangled with each other, her head resting on his shoulder, watching an action film together. Loads of explosions, guns fights, and amusing deaths. 

Just the way they liked it.

She had kissed him one last time as she left, a gentle brush of her lips on his, before she had vanished into the night.

Jonathon had spent the rest of the day walking around in a daze, doing things, but never focusing on them, unable to completely take his mind off of what had just happened to him. 

Out of all his dreams, this was one that he had never expected to come true. All the others had been viable, but this one had been somewhat of a pipe dream. Okay, so it was just the start of a relationship. The tip of an iceberg, the very tip of it. But still...

He couldn't help how happy it made him feel. 

.....................................................................................

"What happened?" 

Nate bypassed his usual form room seat, and seated himself next to Jonathon. 

"No wait, don't tell me..." He looked at Jonathon's face. "Actually, do tell me. I can't work it out from your expression alone. All I know it that it must've been reasonably good."

Jonathon just sighed, for a moment, trying to get himself back in more controlled frame of mind.

"She was kind about it?" Nate said, assuming that the sigh meant that things had the way that they'd gone with everyone else. "Did you at least get to enjoy the date?"

"Yeah, I enjoyed the date. But I enjoyed the next day even more."

"What happened?" Nate said, the question in his voice evident, and intensely curious.

"She came over and we talked. And she agreed to go out with me."

Nate just sat there for a moment, his face completely unreadable. Jonathon had never seen someone look puzzled, incredulous, disbelieving and yet happy all the same time - but his friend managed to pull it off flawlessly. 

"She said yes?"

"That's what I just implied I think."

"She said yes?"

"How many times do I have to say it?"

"No, I'm just surprised. Really surprised. In all the time I've know her, she's just never had interest in anyone. I honestly though she was interested in girls for a while, but she straightened that out. She just said that she's doesn't really care about gender, but no-one she had met so far would really have any chance at being anything but friends with her."

He smiled. "But then again, you are Jonathon. The mysterious, intriguing international student. Somehow I'm not surprised." 

"I am. I honestly didn't think that I stood a chance."

"Well, you tried it. And it worked out." He punched him on the shoulder. "Just be good to her, alright?"

"You know I will be."

Nate shrugged. "I just had to say it. She's my friend. And don't worry - she'll be getting the same message. I don't really want to have to deal with dating drama from either of you."

"Aww. Nate cares."

He shifted slightly, looking more than a little embarrassed. "Don't make me Alyssa you."

"Her name's a verb now?"

"It might as well be. You know exactly I meant when I said that."

...................................................................

The day went on as normal - until lunchtime.

Jonathon hadn't been able to spend break time with Alyssa, as she had to go a see a teacher about an important piece of work. 

But when lunchtime rolled around, his heart was beating faster than usual, the anticipation of him seeing her a little more intense than he had predicted. 

He was in the common room with Mark, Yi and Nate, all of them seated round a table, just chatting as they normally would. Harrison and his cronies were seated away from them, about halfway across the room, making the same amount of noise as they normally would - too much.

Even though he was looking out for her, he didn't see her walk in - and before he knew it she slid into the seat next to him, completely taking him off guard.

"Hey," she said to them all as they greeted.

And then she leaned over, and kissed Jonathon on the cheek, as means of a greeting.

He hadn't been expecting that. 

They'd only started going out - well, literally a few hours before. He'd hadn't been really expecting anything this affectionate and open this earlier on. 

Then again, this was Alyssa. Once she decided to commit to something, she was most likely going to stick to it. She had decided that he was going to be his girlfriend - which meant that she would probably kiss him whenever she felt like it, wherever she felt like it. Even if it was in the middle of the common room, full of students who had had no idea that they were dating.

Until now. 

Mark and Yi looked at them in open surprise, as did some of the other people who had been looking in their general direction, the whispers spreading round the common room, as people gaped, realising that the legendary Alyssa, had just kissed someone. She wasn't known for being the most friendly of people; even her hugs were reserved for a few people, and given sparingly at best.

But now she had kissed someone?

Alyssa, of course, either didn't notice, or really didn't care. She just continued to chat away, ignoring the supposedly furtive glances that were shot in hers and Jonathon's direction. But the whispers still continued, swirling round the room.

"Umm," Mark began. "Alyssa?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you kiss Jonathon?"

"Is it illegal?"

"No-"

"Then where is this going?"

"Alyssa," Yi began. "You don't kiss anyone. Not even Nate, and he's the only one who could probably even ask for the privilege without getting a look or a slap. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. Is it really wrong to want to give my boyfriend a kiss?"

There was a literally ten seconds of silence in the surrounding area, where nosy people who had been listening in went utterly quiet. Then the spell was broken, and they whispered with renewed vigour as the information filtered out across the room. 

"Did you just say boyfriend?" Yi asked, blinking. 

"Yep."

"When did this happen?" Mark asked, his eyes slightly wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Does it really matter?" 

"Is she joking?" Yi demanded, turning to Nate. 

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're Alyssa's best friend. If anyone would know, you would."

"She's not joking," Jonathon interjected, wanting to move on, not seeing why it generated so much interest. 

They seemed to notice him for the first time, their minds beginning to register that he was the one that the most mature, centred, formidable girl in their year had chosen.

"I can't say I saw this one coming." Mark shook his head from side to side, as if it was somehow going to clear his preconceived perceptions away.

"Does it matter?" Yi said, swatting him on the arm. "Congrats, you two. It's such a shame Valentine's Day has gone. I'd have loved to see what the two of you got each other."

"Why?" Mark asked, slightly clueless as usual.

"They're just so different it would've been-"

But her voice was soon drowned out by the roar of disbelief and other strange noises coming from halfway across the room. 

Nate's face darkened, his face shutting down. He instinctively moved the one cornrow that fell over the front of his shoulder behind him, his hands moving downward to rest on the table in front of him. 

Jonathon knew who was coming. 

Harrison's sizable body moved into view, his face angry and red once more, looking down at Jonathon with a mixture of scorn and anger, and something else that he was having trouble putting his finger on. 

"Are you seriously dating that?" he said, turning to Alyssa. "Are you seriously dating that albino fucker?"

She looked up at him blankly, the only part of her face showing any expression being her eyes - and they were colder than Siberia. 

"What business of it is yours?" 

The common room was deathly silent, everyone's eyes resting the scene that was about to begin. 

"What do you see in him that's so special? He's just some damn Euro scum that showed up from nowhere!"

"Once again - what business of it is yours, Harrison?"

"You deserve better than that," he sneered.

"And what's wrong with Jonathon?"

"He's-"

But Alyssa cut him off, interrupting him without preamble or aggression, her voice a scalpel cutting through his stream of words before they could even begin. 

"He's intelligent, has an interesting sense of humour, gets along with my friends and can have both serious and frivolous conversations quite easily." A note of what sounded like frosty amusement entered her voice - and yet Jonathon was the only one who knew that it wasn't. It was the tone of the Fair Folk, the tone they used when they played with humans who they found too foolish to even stand the sight of.

"Add in the fact that he's handsome, has a body to die for, and comes at the top of almost every class or sport he participates in... what's better than that?" she finished, her face not moving a millimetre. Except for the right corner of her lips, which curved themselves in to a cruel parody of the smile she normally wore.

Harrison looked like he was going hit something or someone. A quiet laugh came from somewhere to the side of him; his head whipped round and the laughter died with it.

He ignored Alyssa now, and turned to Jonathon. 

"I'm warning you..." he said, as threateningly as he could, glaring at him with the fiercest expression he could muster. But there was still something off about it, as if there was something else underlying the entire situation that he had created. It looked so familiar, and but he simply couldn't place it-

And then he remembered. 

It was absurd. Yet it made perfect sense. Absolute clarity. 

He needed to end this before it got out of hand. 

"Warning me of what, Harrison? Warning me of what exactly?"

"Just warning you that's she's been here longer than you have. She's one of ours. You're an outsider," he snarled. "Don't fucking forget it, you damn albino."

With that he turned, and walked back towards his friends, who all glared in their direction, and then glared at anyone else who was looking. The room relapsed into the hushed conversation, becoming louder after a few moments. 

Now Jonathon understood another facet of Harrison's hatred for him.

He was never going to win with this guy.

......................................................................

"You know Harrison likes you?"

"Yeah. He's liked me for while now."

They were sitting in library, the two of the working on their separate projects, while quietly talking to each other. There were few other people there - but for the most part it was deserted. 

"How long has he liked you for?"

"Since I arrived. But he was so irritating that I didn't really pay any attention to him. Never let him get close to me, though. He was too much of a prick."

"That might be part of the reason why he hates Nate, you know."

"Why would that be- Oh. I see. You know, from what I heard, they didn't like each other before I arrived. But everything with them two kicked off a little after we became good friends."

"So when I showed up, became friends with Nate, and by proxy you-"

"-he couldn't stand it. Then you beat him in Latin, and at football."

"And now I'm dating you," Jonathon finished. 

"You really do know how to rock the boat, don't you Jonathon Morgenstern?"

"Even when I don't try to."

He leaned over, and kissed her gently on the forehead. She smiled, and pushed him back with a finger-

\- and then a shiver went down his spine. Alyssa simultaneously stiffened as well. 

They had both sensed the same thing. 

But it was impossible. 

It was simply not possible. It couldn't be.

"Did you-

"Yeah, I did, Jon. You armed?"

"Of course. Let's just hope I don't have to use it."

It made no sense at all. Nevertheless, the presence they had sensed was unmistakable. 

So familiar - but so foreign in the setting they were in.

There was a demon nearby.


	30. Always One

It had only been for a moment - but it was more than enough, to make the two of them rise from their seats as if they were molten steel flowing into a mould, their muscles tensing, hearts preparing to pump in earnest, their adrenal glands preparing to flood their bloodstreams if need be. 

But the presence was already gone, the demonic influence fading but not completely dissipating, simply moving further away. 

Jonathon was moving - before Alyssa took his arm.

"You can't go out there. What if it senses you-"

"You're in more danger than I am. A demon can see through glamours - they can't sense Nephilim. In all honesty, you're in more danger than I am. So don't even think about going out there. We have no idea why there's a demon that powerful here. But if it sees you, it might decide to stick around and see why there's a faerie going to school here. Or go and tell someone that you're here. Either way, it simply can't see you. So I'll go."

"But what about you? You're meant to be dead!" she said in a fierce whisper. "What if he recognises you-"

"He'll probably think I'm someone else."

"Really? You, who have a tendency to come back from the dead?"

Jonathon wasn't going to argue with her. 

He just couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt - in any way. Even though she wasn't fragile at all. 

Before she could protest any further, he moved off, swiftly striding towards the door, his angel blood singing as he moved towards the demonic presence, even as it moved away from him. 

He forced himself to walk naturally, moving just ever so slightly faster than normal, not wanting to lose the sense of the unnatural presence in his newly ordered world. It continued to move away from him. He followed it, more confused than he had ever been.

How was the demon out in the daylight?

Demons could not exist in daylight. Which was why the skies of Edom were forever dark and poisoned beyond redemption, so that the children of Lilith and Asmodeus could roam free in both the night and the day. Even so, they still preferred to be nocturnal.

So how could there be possibly be a demon out in the unfiltered sunlight that covered this world?

Yet there was no doubt that was what he felt. 

His mind ran through all the possible demons that it could be. There would be no reason for Vetis demon to be here - or any of the other kinds of demon. 

Except for that type. 

An Eidolon.

The ones who could easily blend in with crowd. The shape shifters, capable of taking human form. The demons most suited for infiltrating human establishments due to the long time they spent studying and observing humanity. Aside from the Greater Demons and the fati , they knew the most about humanity. 

There was nothing good about this situation. 

Jonathon continued down the corridor hands at his sides, ready to throw back his blazer at a moment's notice, and use the adamas dagger that he took with him everywhere he went. He followed the demonic trail as he weaved through students, his mind on autopilot as he walked, giving out absentminded greetings to anyone that spoke to him. 

Reaching the reception, he abruptly slowed down as felt the presence strengthen. 

That man.

The man standing in front of him was a little shorter than he was, pale skin, brown eyes, brown hair, an unremarkable face. His side profile was unremarkable; if it was a silhouette, it would've been a rather forgettable one. Nothing stood out at all. Altogether, an average human being. 

The aura he gave off on the other hand, was perfectly demonic. 

He simply radiated demonic energy. Jonathon could feel it roiling off of him, an uncomfortable constant wave that made his blood jump and almost hiss within his veins. 

The man finished signing out from the premises -and then he turned so that his eyes glanced past Jonathon.

He tensed, his hand moving towards his weapon, ready to use it first and do damage control later. 

The brown orbs continued round with the rest of the man's head, not even lingering on him for an instant. He turned and continued on his way out of the building, not even acknowledging the presence of the Nephilim in front of him, completely and utterly in the dark of who it was that stood in front of him.

Jonathon let out an audible sigh of relief. 

That was one less problem he had to deal with.

..............................................................................

Alyssa didn't look in the slightest bit happy. 

Standing by the library door, she cut an imposing figure, making her school uniform look impossibly good. The look on her face, however was something that would've sent Genghis Khan scurrying in the other direction.

Jonathon almost wanted to go back to the demon. 

First day of their relationship and he had seemingly already messed up. 

She took him by the arm, and dragged him away, towards a computer room that was locked at lunchtime. She looked around, touched the lock with a single finger, and opened it, and went inside, letting the door swing shut behind her as she manoeuvred them out of the view of the glass window that made up half of the door. 

"What was that?"

Jonathon knew exactly what she meant. Knowing Alyssa's tendency for directness, he just went straight for it.

"I know you're not a shrinking violet. But you have to admit that there's less risk for me than there is for you."

She looked at him, her expression still frosty. 

"Have you already forgotten that the Vetis demon knew who you were and was looking for you a few weeks ago?"

He had forgotten. 

"The look on your face tells me all I need to know. But that isn't even the main problem here. As you said, you're 'dead' and cremated, so it would be unlikely that you'd be recognised in the first place. What I really don't like is that you left me behind, and just wandered off."

She stepped towards him, her eyes blazing into his with something that wasn't at all fury, but could have easily been interpreted as such.

"Don't ever leave me behind." She emphasised each word with a poke to his chest. "Don't ask the why's and the wherefore's - just know that's my only rule when it comes to relationships."

"Aside from all the regular stuff?"

She gave him a tiny half smile, in spite of the serious expression that still covered the majority of her face.

"Aside from the regular stuff. But you'll soon find out that my version of regular isn't the same as everyone else's."

"I'd be disappointed if it was," he said, leaning down to kiss her. Alyssa kissed him back gently, tenderly, stroking his hair, and then broke off, striding back towards the door. 

Seeing the look on his face as she looked over his shoulder, the faerie laughed.

"I'm a faerie - you're a Shadowhunter. If we start making out here... Well. Shall we say that we probably won't be able to stop?"

"That's accurate."

"Later, on the other hand..."

"Don't tempt me. Please. Oh Alyssa?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do think that there was a demon here?"

"Honestly, Jon? I have absolutely no idea. I thought you'd have more idea than I would've, since you've had more contact with demons than I have."

"But you're older than I am. You've probably heard of, and experienced things that I can't even dream of. Demons walking in sunlight? And coming to a school of all places?"

"Demons going to school - never heard of that. On the other hand, I've never heard of them walking in sunlight - but for some reason, I vaguely remember something about demons being able to walk in daylight. But it's an old, old memory, or just something a heard in passing. I'm not even sure if it's true. But I'll try to remember what it is. But you should check your demonology books - just in case its mentioned in there."

"I will. I will. And my father's journals might help out. He pushed the envelope with his... experiments. I'll check them out."

"You didn't throw them away?"

He shook his head, unable to answer. There was just something about Valentine that he couldn't let go of. Something about that man was simply ingrained in him. He'd honestly thought about throwing them away, along with all the other Valentine's stuff. But something had stopped him short. Jonathon couldn't quite put his finger on it - and he certainly had tried to. The answer simply would not come to him, no matter how much he thought about. Eventually, he had just given up, and they had just sat there, gathering dust. 

"Jonathon."

He blinked, and then realised that he'd been drifting off again. 

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look it."

"I'll be fine."

The look she gave him registered her complete disbelief. But she didn't push the issue - which he appreciated immensely.

There were still some things that he simply didn't want to talk about. 

She understood that - a mutual understanding between them that they didn't have to talk about anything that they didn't want to - unless it was detrimental to them, or something they had to do. 

All of that, conveyed just by a glance.

Jonathon had never met someone that was on such a similar wavelength on him; and yet was so different to him. It was something was beyond what he'd experienced before. 

It was magical.

"You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

...................................................................................................

The world continued to turn, spinning towards night. Jonathon and Alyssa spent the rest of the school day together, the two of walking together until they separated to go their own ways to their homes. Both of them went home, the two of the satisfied and happier than either of them had been in a little while. Not that they hadn't been happy before. This was a different type of happiness, a new dimension to their feelings - at least in Jonathon's experience. 

Alyssa had been here before. She knew she was taking a risk with what she was doing, but she couldn't help it.

Jonathon was beautiful. In so many different ways. It was somewhat hard to believe that had once been a crazed, sword wielding manic. 

Then again, she hadn't been a saint either. Far from it. Far, far from it.

She'd tell him eventually. And she might even tell him why he couldn't stand for him to leave her behind when he'd gone on by himself.

There was so much going on - but it was all just the beginning. 

............................................................................................

Jonathon was glad. As he stretched out underneath the covers of his bed, he couldn't help but wonder how his life had led him here. 

But it had - and he wasn't going to look the gift horse in mouth - especially when the horse had been overly generous with him. 

He only hoped that he wouldn't waste them. 

He hoped that he would be a good boyfriend to Alyssa - whether their relationship lasted a week, a month or even long beyond that. 

Even with the seemingly random demon that had appeared in school - in daylight, no less - Jonathon's spirits couldn't be dampened. Everything was going right. He simply hoped it lasted. 

Jonathon turned over as he fell asleep, a contented smile on his face.

...............................................................................

Vire leaned against the tree, waiting for the demon to come. 

Hyde Park was quiet at this time of night. 

He wondered what was taking the Eidolon so long. 

The faerie knight closed his eyes, and waited. 

He smelled the blood before he heard him approaching. 

"Had a feast, then?" Vire smiled, barely opening his lips.

"Quite. Maintaining that form was a nuisance, and being out in the sunlight, even with my mistresses' blood within me."

Vire cracked a single eye open, and saw that the demon had reverted to the form he was normally in, his lips stained with dark, red flakes, that seemed to flake off as he moved his lips. 

"So?"

"He's there - but he sensed me. Unsurprisingly. He followed me, but I made sure that he didn't have any reason to suspect that I was there for him. I'm a good actor when I need to be. He looked very comfortable to me."

Vire's smile was horrible. 

"Let us inform our mistresses. I'm sure they will be pleased."


	31. Timebomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning time.

"So we've found them. What now?" The Queen of the Seelie Court sounded unusually pleased. Had she been human, she would've been rubbing her hands together with glee.

"We let him get comfortable."

That was unexpected. 

"What do you mean, let him get comfortable?"

"Exactly what the statement entails. We bide our time a little longer and allow him to relax, to become settled into his new routine. I suspect that my demon was noticed, no matter how much he insists that he was discreet and careful. That son of mine is no fool. A demon in a school was not something that he would've missed. He will be on high alert. I do not want to spook him, and have him flee again."

The Queen pursed her lips, looking slightly unhappy. "So what are we going to do in the mean time? We simply cannot sit here and do nothing!"

"Patience. We will use this time to prepare. The fact that he is attending a school is actually quite helpful. It makes him predictable."

"There is that... But we will have to proceed with the utmost caution. But it is tempting to have time to form a more fleshed out plan."

"It most certainly would. So wait, my fellow Queen. We will soon have what we both desire - and more. Now, I suggest..."

...................................................................................

"So we're just to watch him?" The Eidolon demon sounded absolutely furious.

"No."

"Well, that's what it sounds like."

"That's not what it is."

"Then tell me. What exactly are we going to be doing, Vire?"

"Watching. Waiting. Preparing. The instructions we received are quite detailed. We enough to do. For a few days at least.."

The demon threw himself into a seat, glaring at his faerie companion with undisguised venom. 

They sitting in a small apartment, in the upper realms of the Fey. A quiet, little place, full of the bare necessities, that they were to live in together, until their mission was complete. 

It was far away enough from the main populace of faeries for no-one to get suspicious; a quiet, secluded corner that was perfect for underhand, dark activities. 

"We have the boy. We know where he is. All that remains is to pick him up, deliver him back to them, and then we're home free-"

"That was the original idea," Vire replied sharply. "But plans change. And now, there's a new plan. What it is exactly is not known to us, but we'll follow it to the letter."

"I suppose..."

"Anyway," Vire smiled coldly, "you have an excuse to be in the centre of London every night. And with this little place, you don't have to search for somewhere to hide in the daytime. Just make sure you burn your meals after you're finished with them."

The Eidolon demon closed his eyes, and grunted in disgust.

Vire couldn't be bothered to respond. He took his leave, quietly leaving through the front door without a backward glance.

As the door clicked, the Eidolon's eyes opened wide. 

The thought of fooling Vire so easily truly amused him.

It was important after all. 

Vire couldn't suspect a thing about what Lilith really had planned. Nobody could. It was imperative. It could easily go wrong. But if they could pull it off, it would be classed as one of the greatest events in all of history.

Help would be needed though. Help that wouldn't question what was going on. Assistance that would not need payment, inspiration or prompting, and could rely on as well.

A smile crossed the demon's face, as it headed towards the door, knowing that this job wasn't going to be too difficult. Having spoken with some of the other students from the school in various guises, it knew exactly what was going on within its walls. 

It knew who it was going to see.

...................................................................................

Harrison was in his the outhouse, a massive, overly equipped, weirdly ornate building that had been his sixteenth birthday present.

He'd been in America for the entire summer, and when he'd come back, there had been an enormous structure in the corner of the garden that had built specially for him. His mother had congratulated on his GCSE results and had left him to explore his new domain.

It was literally a mini, one storey home. He had his own en-suite bathroom, a large bedroom with a king-size bed, with a large LED TV, smaller than the one in the sitting room, a large, open space with sofas and chairs, that was cleverly fused with a small kitchen, if he wanted to heat freezer food, or had any friends over who could actually cook. His broadband was top notch, and his mother had even had under floor heating installed. 

It had become his home. Even if was paid for, created and designed by his mother, it was his. Neither of his parents ventured down here. He'd had wild parties, bought girls over, and even tried out some of the hazing that American fraternities were so hung up on with some of the pathetic people that followed him. 

Ruler of his own home. Ruler of the school the comprehensive school he went to. Isambard Brunel High School. What his intelligence couldn't afford him, his wealth could. People were drawn to him, and he wielded the power he had over them with an iron fist - so much easier than dealing with the children of other rich people, who thought they were better than him when they weren't even half as intelligence. 

But then that albino fucker had shown up. Jonathon bloody fucking twice-damned Morgenstern. 

Smarter than him. Better than him at sports. More universally popular across the year, and the school in general. Better looking than him. 

Matters had only gotten worse when he had seen him hanging out with the only other person he disliked that much. That Nate bastard. The only person in year who had really stood up to him, and really succeeded. He hadn't thought that that was possible to dislike him anymore than that.

Until he had seen him with Alyssa yesterday. 

His fists clenched as he lay on his sofa, the insane jealousy he felt from that day that he'd met him somehow intensifying.

Alyssa. One of the only people in the entire year group that he had wanted to know, rather than intimidate. She was also one of the only people who didn't have the time of day for him. Ever. 

He'd tried multiple times to just talk to her, but for some reason she didn't like him. At all. She literally didn't even glance in his direction. Her dismissal of him only made him want to know her even more. But Alyssa wasn't having any of it. She'd rebuffed him with an ease that was scarily effortless and consistent.

Nevertheless, he couldn't stop trying - but the presence of Nate, and her own attitude had just made it impossible. 

Now there was this new barrier. One that had stolen his monopoly of power in the year, and had stolen the girl that he considered to be his.

Harrison sat up, and changed the channel, looking for something violent, some with lots of death and explosions just so he could imagine that it was his nemesis was dying again and again. 

He was petty like that. 

He found something suitable, and watched the explosions, and the watched the people fall to the ground, faces either a horrible rictus, or a blank expression, the eyes empty. Whether clean, scarred, or bloody, they all ended up the same way. Dead. 

Harrison didn't know whether he wished Jonathon was dead. He certainly wanted him gone, though. Him and Nate. The two of them were all that stood between him and what he felt was rightfully his.

Then the doorbell rang.

Harrison jolted, completely surprised. Who the hell would be calling at this time of night?

If it was just his mother, his worthless father, they would've just called. They knew not to disturb him. They might have sent him one of the maids if it was urgent, or something particular. But even so, it was strange for anyone to disturb him.

He threw himself off the sofa, and stalked towards the door, ready to verbally abuse whoever was outside the door if they didn't have a very good reason to be there. 

The wooden portal crashed in the wall, the already dented surface cracking just a little more, the result of more than a few tantrums.

"Who the he-" His words were snatched from mouth, impaled on the arrows of surprises that stuck into him. 

There was a girl standing there.

One that he couldn't help but stare at - not that he didn't want to. 

Average height, but not at all average build. Long, tumbling dark locks, with skin that looked too pale to be real, but it contrasted her hair so perfectly. Too perfectly. It was unnatural. Cupid lips, high, perfect cheekbones, perfectly straight nose, separating her eyes - which were the colour of liquid fire, a burning bright amber. She was dressed in a loosely, fitted maxi dress that was made of some midnight black material fluttering in the wind, giving him a good look at what seemed to be a perfect formed body.

Harrison could feel himself stirring slightly, as he looked at her, his emotions all over the place, as well as his priorities. He knew he should at least ask where she had come from, what she was doing in his garden (how had she gotten in?). He really should really be calling the police, but the way she looking at him, a quizzical, pointed stare seemed to have him paralysed. 

"Who- Who are you? How did you get in here?" 

She moved forward, placing a hand on his chest gently. 

"Does it matter? And I climbed over the wall," she replied, in a very matter of fact tone, her surprisingly normal voice taking him aback. He had almost expected something ethereal, something magical, but instead she sounded normal. 

It made her all the more interesting, and alluring at the same time.

"May I come in? I think we have so much to discuss."

"But I don't know you-"

She swept past him, brushing right by him, her legs rubbing past him with, letting her shoulder bump his gently. 

"Then you'll just get to know me." 

Harrison looked at her - then back at the door. Then he did it again. 

The woman looked back at him, smiling at her. 

"Close the door, there's a draft. I can help you with your problems - and you can help me with mine. So can we just talk?"

She opened his fridge, and took out a bottle of wine. Removing two glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and poured them out a reasonable measure of wine. Sweeping over to him, she passed him the glass, placing it his surprised hand.

"Cheers." She clinked her glass to his, and took a sip, raising an eyebrow at him when he didn't move. 

He regained some of his composure, and sipped some of the wine, the beverage sliding smoothly down his throat, as he closed the door slowly.

The girl sat down on the sofa, crossing her legs, her amber eyes blazing into his, noticing her very long, but very straight eyelashes, blinking at him slowly, as if she was waiting him for speak. So he did.

"So... So..."

"You want the background?"

"Yeah - please. I don't why I'm not calling the police," he sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm here regarding Jonathon Morgenstern."

His hand tightened around the glass.

"What about him?"

"Did I say something? You don't sound very happy."

"I- We- We don't get along."

"Not a surprise, really."

Her tone of voice made him look up. 

"What do you mean by that?"

"There's far more to that boy than meets the eye. Far more."

She set down her glass, and pinioned him with a look. 

"What I'm about to say is going to sound insane. But once I've told you everything, Harrison Evefield, you will understand that exactly what I say is the truth, as well as why I've come to you, rather than someone else."

................................................................................

It was insane. It was delusional. 

Yet it made sense. 

Jonathon wasn't human.

It explained everything. Why he was so handsome, charismatic, so physical capable and intelligent all in one. He'd always thought that no-one could be that perfect - so flawless. There had to have been something wrong with him, and now he knew what.

"So Jonathon's an siren?"

"Yes. But he can't fool you because you're a strong minded individual, who knows what he wants. The siren song can affect both men and women - so he has entranced your fellow classmates with his lies and spun a tale with his lying tongue. We can free them, however. But you just have to follow my instructions, and we can restore everything to how it was before. It'll take a while. But we will succeed," she said, taking his hand in hers. 

They were sitting on the sofa, their glasses empty, but neither of them were drunk. Just relaxed. 

"Just one question. What are you?"

"What do you mean?" 

"You're so... beautiful. You can't be human."

She laughed, a surprisingly, happy, free sound. 

"I'm not. I'm not fully human, anyway. I'm half nymph. My mother was human, and entranced and killed by a siren. My father raised me, and we hunt Sirens. They're really the only bad thing in my world. So many other lovely creatures exist - but Sirens ruin it for us all. He's currently out on the other side of the world, hunting a nest. So I'm here, dealing with this lone siren."

Harrison nodded, entranced by her, feeling her touch on his hand, completely taken by her words. 

"Your world?"

"The world of the supernatural."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Of course. But not as dangerous as what you're going to do."

"What?"

"You have to go to school with him every day. You're survived so far, and resisted his call. You are stronger than you know, and the world will be better for it once we've completed our mission."

"I'll do whatever I can to help."

She placed her other hand on his face, moving in closer to him. "I find brave people, very, very attractive."

Harrison resisted. For just a moment. 

Then he was kissing her, running his hands all over her body, as she allowed him to push her down, tasting her, wanting her, his body losing all forms of sensibility in his lust. 

Before he knew it, they were both naked and then time seemed to blur-

Her mouth on him, sliding up and down-

His was on her, burrowing deep, making her gasp-

Then he was in her, the two of them gasping and panting together.

The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep, was that she better and more experienced than anyone else he had ever been with. And that she was going to expose Jonathon for what he was. How could anyone be more perfect?

.......................................................................

The Eidolon stroked the head of the blond boy that lay intertwined with the female form it had taken.

Humans. So predictable.


	32. The Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natural things aren't always easy.

The next few weeks were completely out of a dream sequence that Jonathon thought that he had once had, the only difference being that reality was infinitely better. 

Every morning he woke up, knowing he was going to meet her on the way to school, holding her hand as they strolled, their fingers intertwined, their shoulders bumping each other half the time, jostling each other gently as they went to school, sharing a couple of quick kisses on the way, Alyssa bashing his shoulder with her head when she felt that he was stealing too many kisses. 

They didn't spent all of their break and lunch time together the two of them feeling that it would be serious over kill if they did. After school was similar to the journey to school, the two of them sometimes stopping to get something to eat. 

Nate was often with them, the two of them not minding at all, the dynamic between the three of them changing only ever so slightly. Jonathon's house was still one of their favourite places, the three of them sitting around the table and laughing as they always did, finishing homework and projects with tea, coffee, cold drinks when they felt like it, and assorted biscuits. 

He was more than tactful enough, however, to know when the two of them wanted to be left alone. Jonathon was careful and considerate enough to make sure that Alyssa and Nate still had their time together without him, not wanting to invade on the dynamic that they had had for so long. 

But Nate didn't seem to be bothered at all. After he left the house, the two of them either snuggled up together, making out like crazy, or sparred in the training room, which often ended in the same result. They never went all the way though, but neither of them bought it up, and honestly neither of them cared. 

.........................................................................................

Their first argument snowballed out of control quite rapidly, becoming quite spectacular in such a short space of time.

It started off after Alyssa bounced his head off his shoulder on the way to school again, a little bit harder than usual. 

"Ow. Do you mind? You're head isn't soft, you know."

"Stop being such a wimp, Jon. I do this every morning."

"Yeah. But not usually that hard."

" It's nothing worse than anything that's happened to you before. It's not like I stabbed you. And we spar all the time."

"I'm actually prepared for it then."

"Stop being so sensitive."

"You stop being inconsiderate then."

She let go of his hand. "I don't get you. The great Jonathon Morgenstern, Shadowhunter supreme, hurt by a head butt to the shoulder. I hope you survive your trauma."

"What is your problem? I just ask you to do one, little thing, and suddenly it just becomes something else completely. And by the way, your theatrics aren't going to win you any prizes - ever."

She glared at him, and stalked off ahead. 

Jonathon sighed loudly, so that she could hear, and followed behind her.

.............................................................................................

The next time they spoke was at lunchtime. 

Well, they weren't speaking. They weren't even sitting next to each other. 

Yi didn't know what she was about to start. 

"Did something happen to the two of you? You don't seem as... happy as usual?"

"Ask Alyssa. She's the one with all the answers."

She drummed her fingers on the table, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. 

"When you suddenly realise that your boyfriend is a whiny little bastard, it's quite a revelation."

Jonathon snorted. "Rich coming from someone who thinks it's alright to stomp off in the middle of an argument. The last time I checked, this wasn't a nursery."

"Says the one who cries over a bump."

"Says the one who runs away from an argument because she knows she can't win."

Alyssa's hand slammed into the table hard, the sound echoing around the room. 

"You're the one who's in the wrong here!" Her voice echoed out over the common room, everyone going quiet, even Harrison's group quietening down to witness what they were about to see.

"Says who? I asked you to do one little thing. Nothing special. Just to stop trying to break my damn shoulder, and you get upset about that? You don't make any sense. It's pathetic!"

"I'm not pathetic . And you're one to talk about not making sense." She clutched her shoulder in mock agony, making her voice sound whiny and forced. "My poor, injured shoulder. I got a little tap on it, and now it's broken."

A nervous laugh went through the room, quickly dying down as Nate got to his feet, glaring round at everyone.

"Guys-" he began. 

"I take back what I said earlier about you not having an acting talent. You'd win an Oscar for acting stupid. Then again, that's not really much of a stretch for you, is it now?"

The inhalation of breath in the room was audible, and someone even whistled. 

Nate, Yi and Matt looked horribly uncomfortable, trapped in the middle of the tennis match.

"Yeah, actually I agree," she replied standing up, and gathering her things together, making sure everyone could see and hear her.

"I am stupid. Stupid enough to start dating someone like you."

Her venom on the 'you' was audible, and as she collected the rest of her things, a laugh broke out from across the room. 

Alyssa turned to Harrison, nuclear explosions going off behind her eyes. "What's so funny?"

He was foolish enough to begin to answer.

"Just that-"

"I wasn't asking for an answer. I was stupid enough to start dating him - but I'll never be stupid enough to even look in your direction."

Another audible gasp, with a couple of stifled laughs. Harrison's face darkened, but Alyssa turned, her hair swinging behind her, a dark curtain that trailed behind her as she swept away, people moving out her way as she surged forward.

Jonathon sat there, glaring into thin air, feeling angry and horrible at the same time. Arguing, being that vicious, and doing it so publicly - it seemed like such as Sebastian thing to do. 

But he hadn't been able to help it. He was currently seething with rage, so frustrated with both himself and her at the same time that he didn't even know what to do with himself at this moment in time.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin and bone.

His look upward showed him the last face he wanted to see at this moment in time. 

"What did you do to her?" 

"Nothing that concerns you."

"She's never gone off like that in public before! What did you do to her?"

"Fuck off, Harrison," he replied, ripping his hand off his shoulder.

"She was fine until you showed up," he continued, as Jonathon began packing up his stuff, shoving it roughly into his bag, not caring that his stuff was getting crumpled, completely ignoring the fact that he would be pissed off about it later. He just need to be away. Far, far away from all the eyes on him - and not because he cared. They could stare at him all they liked. He was used to it. 

He just didn't know what he was going to do, and that was the problem.

And then he was stumbling, falling forward over the table, his lightning fast reflexes lashing out to keep him from falling flat onto the table. 

"I asked you- what did you do to her."

He turned around, and glared at Harrison ferociously, who paled slightly, but stood his ground. 

"Do you have a death wish?" Jonathon hissed at him.

"I'm not scared of you," he replied. "I want to know what you did to her!" He shoved him, and Jonathon moved backward a step just so that he didn't fall over. 

The tension in the room grew, a taut string of some instrument waiting to snap, the inaudible high-pitched screech vibrating noiselessly in everyone's minds as they saw where it was going. 

Nate started to move around the table, practically ready to dive. 

But Harrison had already drawn back his fist, it was sailing through the air towards Jonathon-

Who stayed where he was wanting to see if he would actually commit to this folly.

And it connected with his jaw. He rolled with it, allowing his head to move round with the force of the blow. 

The string snapped, the twang a sharp, stinging noise that would've made everyone flinch if it has been a physical thing.

Jonathon's hands moved, curling into fists, his left fist slamming into Harrison's shoulder, his right one crashing into his diaphragm. The boy's eyes bulged outward, but before he could even double over in pain, his heel slammed down onto Harrison's foot, and his arms lashed out once again, colliding with his foe's chest, sending him soaring backward, the human's body actually leaving the ground temporarily, as he flew through the open space, landing in a heap with crash as he slid into a empty chair. 

It had all taken less than five seconds. 

The entire room was in shock. 

Jonathon stood there, his angel blood beginning to hum slightly. Harrison lay on the floor, stunned and fearful, crawling slightly away from him, as the son of Valentine locked his eyes onto him, taking a single step towards him-

Nate slid in front of him. 

"Jon. That's enough. "

"Nate-"

"Jon. You're not yourself."

"Nate, I'm not in the mood-"

And then Jonathon noticed the expression on his friend's face. 

It wasn't fear, but it wasn't the usual, relaxed expression that normally graced his face either. 

What disturbed him most was what he saw reflected in Nate's eyes. 

His face.

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian. 

The only difference? 

His eyes were the wrong colour. 

But the face was the same. Same cold, shark-like expression, hard, blank, menacing and completely terrifying. 

Somehow he looked more spectacular with his green eyes. His natural look was more terrifying than his Sebastian one.

He really couldn't stay here any longer.

Catching Nate's eye, his friend nodded slightly, his face relaxing slightly.

Aside from what had just happened with Alyssa, that hurt more than anything else.

Snatching up his hastily packed bag, he stalked towards the door, people recoiling slightly as he moved on, the very atmosphere around him seeming to tremble with the anger he was feeling. 

..............................................................................

Jumping over the school wall was easier than he thought. He threw his bag over the wall first, and then leapt, the Nephilim blood allowing him to fly into the air, grasping hold of the wall, and dragging himself up and over it in it one smooth motion, landing effortlessly on the other side, behind the school.

He didn't think that anyone had seen him, but so what if they did? In the mood he was in, it would be inadvisable to even come near him. 

Jonathon jogged off, his legs moving without his mind consciously commanding them to do so. He didn't feel like crying. What he was feeling was far beyond mere tears. 

Trouble was brewing now. It wouldn't be long before senior management knew. At the very least, they'd probably want to see his parents. He knew Mrs Evefield would be up at the school when she found out - and he would have no father to produce. 

But that didn't hurt as much as what had just happened with his friends. 

Nate's facial expression had stung. Actually, it had cut. The fact that his friend had been wary of him was something he really hadn't needed to see. He'd never hurt Nate. He would never do that.

He hoped.

The thing with Alyssa was another thing entirely.

That was an aching, a slow burning feeling that seemed to be turning him numb in some parts, while hot ashes burrowed into him in others. 

It really didn't feel like anything he felt before. A sickening, shivery feeling that he couldn't push down, control or ignore, no matter how fast he moved his legs, the pace of his jog, turning into a full blown run.

His angel blood was satisfied with the exercise, humming within him, calming down as the adrenaline that had mixed within it faded. 

But the other feelings just wouldn't go away. They wouldn't stop haunting him, even as he got to his front door, and slipped inside, slamming the door shut behind him, panting as if he'd run a mini marathon.

Great. Just great.

He'd just ruined everything.


	33. Together Again

There was nothing like some misery to bring you spiralling back down the earth. Nothing like a good argument to reinstate gravity and drag your head out of the clouds, and into the pits of darkness.

Jonathon nursed a hot chocolate as he worked, saturated with sugar and honey, the sweetness somehow an antidote to the dark cloud that had settled over his head. The work was also a good distraction. The essay he was writing was not at all inspiring, or interesting to him at this point, but it was exactly what he need. 

He'd tried to watch television, but nothing had caught his attention. His phone was off - he really didn't want to interact with anyone right now. Too much had gone on, and his mind still swirled with everything that he had said and done. Crystal clear memories of the expressions on everyone's faces spun like a slot machine in his mind, pausing on each one for a moment before spinning onward.

Nate's remained though, a beacon of the discontentment that he simply couldn't seem to surmount.

And he wasn't even going to try to describe what he felt about his pointless argument with Alyssa.

They were both wrong. They had both been wrong in their own little ways, but allowing to escalate to what it become bordered on slight insanity. The insanity of love, maybe? He really did care about her. He really, really did. He didn't really have anything to compare it to, but he knew that it wouldn't hurt so much if he wasn't really bothered about her.

Jonathon didn't like arguing with his friends. Another first for him, and one he would've preferred to do without. It wasn't pleasant in the slightest. He clenched his fist around his pen tightly, and picked up the cup with his other hand, sipping it slowly, truly savouring the taste. He continued to fill the page with his cursive neat script, letting everything else slide in the background as he answered a question that didn't mean a damn thing to him.

Sleeping really hadn't helped. When he'd slid in from his early leave from school, tiredness had swamped him, leading to a tired stagger up his stairs before he stripped of and literally dropped into his bed. 

He'd woken up hours later, long after school had finished. Not hungry at all, he'd redressed in some casual clothes and decided to go and do some work. 

And so here he was. Here he was.

Then the bell rang. 

Jonathon looked curiously in the direction of his front door. There was a handful of people that it could be - but he knew it was one of two. Neither was really unwelcome. Neither was very welcome at the moment. He didn't know how he felt - but he knew that he was going to have to face them sooner or later.

The bell rang again, and then again. 

He knew who it was now. 

Dragging himself from the chair that he sat in, he stood up, and steeled himself, letting the mask that his father had given him appear over his face. 

He just couldn't stop his heart from pounding. He felt the pinpricks of sweat prickling on his skin, his throat suddenly dry. His feet moved of his their own accord, virtually floating him over towards the door, as the bell rung once more, the melody ringing out into his ears, but he barely heard it.

The door swung open - he didn't even remember reaching out for it.

She stood there, arms crossed, expressionless, still in her school uniform. 

"May I come in?"

"Sure." 

She walked past him, with a slight fragility to her stride that wasn't normally there. Replacing it however, as she passed the threshold, was a shimmer of anger, a sure indication that everything wasn't completely well.

"Hot chocolate?"

"I wasn't hungry. And I needed something sweet."

"Honey and sugar? Your sweet tooth really came out today."

"Needed it."

Her slender fingers ran over the worktop and the table, dancing lightly, as she walked slowly around to where he had been seated moments ago, while he leaned against the doorway, neither of them looking at the other. 

Heart pounding. More pinpricks of sweat. A irrational urge to move, although there was no reason to. 

What made him more antsy was the fact that she was nervous. Never before had Jonathon seen anything fragile about his girlfriend, but the fact that she hadn't just come straight out with exactly what she wanted to say had him jittery.

But he was sure that it wouldn't last long. 

"I heard what happened with Harrison."

Oh. Okay. Start with that then.

"He had it coming."

"Bit of a mismatch, don't you think?"

"It wasn't me who started it."

"But you finished it."

"Always easier than starting a fight."

Instantly he regretted saying it, recognising the way that words could be interpreted, as well as the fact that he had meant what he had said. 

She looked up at him, a little smile quirking her lips. 

"I deserved that one. I'll give you that. I was being a little odd this morning."

"Was it something-

"You did? No. It's more to do with me than anything else. I just expected of you what I expect of myself, which isn't fair at all. I guess I got a little too attached to the warrior part of you, and forgot for a moment that in some respects, you're a human. Which is what I really like about you. The fact that you're a warrior - but you have this kindness that I only find in humans, or supernaturals who are born of humans, and haven't forgotten their humanity."

She took a deep breath and looked him directly, her wondrous eyes staring into his without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Jon."

He knew how much it must've cost her to come here, to admit that she was wrong, to be the first to make contact, the first to apologise. The faerie were not a forgiving people, and not ones to apologise when they didn't feel the need to do, or when the other party wasn't a significant threat. 

It meant she saw him as an equal.

This indomitable woman saw him as her partner.

He hadn't known quite what she thought of him, but it had played on his mind, wandering what an ancient faerie warrior saw in someone as young as he was. He'd seen a lot, knew a lot... but he didn't have knowledge of decades inside of his mind. He hadn't watched the years roll on and on. 

But in that moment, he knew that she didn't care about all of that. She saw him as her equal, despite their difference. 

She really did care.

He hadn't even realised that it had mattered so much.

"I'm sorry too, Alyssa."

She flicked her hand dismissively. "You don't have to apologise, Jonathon. The fault wasn't yours to begin with. But thanks for making me feel the slightest bit better."

"We're new to this. There's going to be some bumps. And I was wrong, as well."

"But there shouldn't be unnecessary ones."

"True. We'll work on avoiding those. Are we alright now?"

She smiled at him, her little half smile looking more alluring than ever before. 

Before he knew what she was doing, she leapt over the table, and kissed him, hard.

The soft press of her lips against his made everything fade in obscurity. 

Then she pulled away from him. 

"You alright?"

Perceptive. As always. As any good warrior should be. 

"You noticed?"

"Give me some credit. I know you well enough. Do you want to talk?"

"Yeah. I do, actually."

"Well, let's not let that hot chocolate go to waste."

He retook his seat, and she sat next to him, turning herself so that she extended her legs to rest on his lap.

"It's about the fight I had with Harrison."

She simply waited, knowing that he would continue when he was ready to. 

"It was easy. Too easy. It was like a switch that was just waiting to be flicked. It's always been like that - but that's not the problem. It was when I saw my face... I just looked like Sebastian. Minus the eyes, of course. It's just disturbing that despite in all the ways I've changed, there's still that part of me that's him."

"Come on, Jon, you are fundamentally the same person. You can't just expect to be completely different from him. His face is your face, after all. His skills are your skills. Your life before this was his life."

"But I don't want to be him anymore. It just seems like going backward. What was worse was the look on their faces. Especially Nate's."

"They were afraid of you?"

"It's such a Sebastian thing. It was all he knew. Fear. That's all anyone would look at him with. Fear or disgust."

"What about Lilith?"

"Crazy, obsessive, possessive love. The Endarkened were slaves. Even the demons were wary of me. It's not fun to see that again - especially on someone you actually like. I couldn't read Nate's face - but I'm sure that's what it was."

"Probably more surprised than anything else. You're always so chilled out. In comparison to me anyway, and most other people that we know."

She shifted slightly, looking at him directly once again, her eyes glowing. 

"Can I give you a bit of advice? Something from warrior to warrior?"

"You're going to even if I say no."

"Actually, I won't."

Her eyes were completely serious, and steady.

"Yeah. Please."

"I did things that I didn't particularly like, or like to think about. I spent years as a warrior. I've definitely killed a lot more people than you have, believe me. A lot more people. I didn't want to do everything I did, and some of it hasn't been pleasant. I've made friends and lost friends in instants. Sometimes it was their fault. Sometimes it was mine. Sometimes we were both wrong. Other times, it was just a misunderstanding. But no matter what you, just have to move on. Sometimes, you're going to remember stuff you don't want remember. You'll be reminded of stuff that you'd wish you could completely forget, stuff you regret - but you just have to continue. There's nothing you can do about the past. Sebastian is your past - but you've created your own future. Don't let your own mind push you backward. Face the facts. You were Sebastian. They'll always be a part of you that's him. He fought in the same way you fought. His facial expressions are yours. Some of his mannerisms are yours. That doesn't mean he's you." 

"It's just so uncanny sometimes."

"Why? You're Sebastian - with emotions. Without the demon blood. Stop worrying about something you can't change. I know it's hard - but you can't let it limit you for the rest of your life. It's easier to say than do, but you've come this far. I know I've had years to get used to it - but you're smarter than I am."

Jonathon finished his hot chocolate, intently processing what she had said. It was easier said than done, but he'd learn to manage it.

Especially when he had this wonderful person beside him. 

The ringing of her phone interrupted the moment; yet it wasn't in a inappropriate way.

She took it out of her pocket, and answered it, smiling. 

"Here you go."

She handed him the phone.

"Nate."

"Jon. You alright?"

"Feeling much better, actually."

"I've been trying to contact you since you disappeared this afternoon."

"I needed some space. A lot of space. And some sleep."

"You sound better. Have you and Alyssa made up yet?"

"Yeah. We have."

"Glad to hear it. Now I can tell everyone who's pestering me that you're still together. Nobody could get through to you, and no-one dared to ring your other half."

"What about Harrison?"

"Bruised and scared. The entire year group is abuzz with what happened. It's become one of those legendary events. In one version, you fly kicked him to the other side of the common room."

"I should've."

"Probably. Just to give you a heads up, our year head will probably be looking for you tomorrow."

"I figured as much. I can handle it."

"Just so you know. But seriously, where did you learn to fight like that?"

Jonathon sighed. "Practise."

"Hmm. I won't ask anymore. At least now I know not to mess with you."

Jonathon tensed slightly. 

"You know I'd never do that to you," he replied, completely seriously.

"I know you wouldn't." Typical Nate fashion. Offhand, chilled, the statement almost so flippant it was factual. He hadn't even considered that as an option.

It meant a lot to Jonathon. More than he'd ever thought it would. 

"Anyway, I'm going to go now. See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

The dialling tone sounded, the flat tone inoffensive as he handed Alyssa back her phone. 

"You feeling better now?"

He couldn't lie as he leaned over, and kissed her gently.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."


	34. Blank

Jonathon woke up, unusually comfortable. His bed was warm, more so than usual, and he felt rested and calm, in spite of the turmoil of the day before. 

As his mind cleared, he felt the warmth next to him, the body spooning next to him, her head tucked under his, their bodies fitting together in their own special way, lean muscle against lean muscle, her back against his chest. The two of them were both clothed from the waist down, his arm draped over her. 

They'd made out fiercely last night, as if to purge the unpleasantness that had existed between them with a bout of pure passion. Their hands had been all over each other, the mouths not parting - unless it was to go down on one another. But it had only gone that far - like all of their make out session. Not that Jonathon was complaining. 

This the first time that he'd woken up next to her. 

It had been late when they'd finished, and she had suggested that she should stay the night. He had openly grinned when she had finished her sentence, unable to even try to play it cool. She had smiled back, and before he knew what was going on, they were together in bed, her body pressed against his, wrapping his arm around her body. 

He laughed at his luck, the quiet chuckle so internalised that it would simply register as a slight shaking to anyone who was watched him. 

"What are you laughing about?" Her tone was playful, light, happy.

"Nothing. Morning to you to."

"Morning, Jon."

She sat up, brushing his arm off of him gently, and then bent down and kissed him gently. 

"Shower or breakfast?"

"Shower. I'll go first - to avoid any distractions."

"But I like distractions."

"We have to go to school. I'll cook breakfast - you stay in bed for a bit longer."

"I'm glad you offered. I'm not a hopeless cook. But I'm definitely not on your level."

"Even though you're way older than I am?"

"I have other talents."

"True."

He rolled out of bed, an effortless motion, that had him standing up feet first, grabbing his towel from where it was hanging, and heading towards the bathroom. Alyssa slumped back down, wrapping herself back in the duvet, her head hitting the soft pillow hard. 

He showered quickly, towelling himself off just as rapidly, wrapping it around him, as he padded back to his bedroom - just as Alyssa left, smiling appreciatively at him as he walked past, slapping his behind.

"Hey!"

"Couldn't resist."

He dressed, and went downstairs, humming happily to himself as the shower pump whirred, as he started cooking breakfast for two. Eggs, tomatoes, sausages, rashes, freshly ground coffee, orange juice, a stack of toast, croissants, jam, honey... He went all out, losing himself in the flow of cooking, so much so, that he didn't notice when she came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Nice shower?"

"Better than the one at mine."

"Really?"

"Trust me."

They sat down to eat, the two of them clearing every plate with ease, washing it down copious amounts of coffee and orange juice, the hot and cold perfectly in sync with the different parts of the meal. Conversation was minimal, the two of them exchanging affection with glances and smiles, the two of them loving the food too much to spoil it with speaking.

"That was great," Alyssa finished, patting her stomach contentedly. 

She stretched, standing up, looking at time.

"We should go. You do know that our Head of Year probably going to call you in?"

"Yeah. But I can handle it. And Mrs Evefield as well."

"I'm sure you can."

...................................................................

They walked to school, happily, without a care in world, hands intertwined so tightly that it seemed like he was going to lose circulation in his fingers. They strolled past where their argument had begun, and he nudged Alyssa, who lightly tapped her head against his shoulder, the final nail in the coffin that they had placed their dispute in.

They parted ways with a kiss at the gate, and went their separate ways. 

Jonathon went to his form room. It was completely empty, and he vaulted over the tables instead of walking around them, reaching his seat in moments. He slumped into it, pressing his back against the seat, placing his bag in front of him. He crossed his arms, and closed his eyes, letting his mind relax.

Time past as he rested, slightly worn out from the night before, until the door to the classroom opened. 

"Oh, Jonathon?"

He opened his eyes to see Ms Weatherby looking at him curiously, as if he had just grown an extra head. Or become slightly dangerous.

"You were absent from form yesterday afternoon. May I ask why?"

"I didn't feel well, so I went home."

"Oh. I see. Did it have anything to do with the fight you had yesterday?"

So the staff had heard about it.

"Yes."

"Jonathon, I must say that I am very disappointed. We do not encourage fighting at this school. I don't know how they handled problems on the continent, but that's not how we handle them here."

He wanted to laugh. He'd been nice to Harrison, all things considering. 

"The Head of Year wants to see you. If you would please go along to the office..."

"Sure. Shall I take my stuff?"

"I think so. You probably won't be back in time for registration."

He gathered everything up in one sweeping motion, rising to his feet, and moving out of the classroom with swiftly and quietly. He was not looking forward to the lecture he was going to get. But it wouldn't involve any beating, or breaking of his bones, or an extended whipping with demon metal.

Jonathon shrugged it off. He was going to be fine.

The corridor were eaten up by his steps, as he strolled towards boredom.

Reaching the final corner, he rounded it smoothly, into the corridor, and went to the his Head of Year's door. He rapped on it smartly.

"Yes?"

"It's Jonathon. Jonathon Morgenstern."

The voice became slightly sterner, as if the person was steeling themselves. "Come in."

He pushed to door open, to see his head of year seated behind the desk, the deputy seated adjacent. 

The lady sat bolt upright, her hair cut sharply just above her shoulders. Dark hair, dark eyes, angular East Asian features, the Indonesian Mrs Gema struck an imposing figure in her black and white pant suit, looking absolutely professional and perfect. Her fingers were formed into a steeple, her wrists resting on her desk, a neutral expression on her face.

Next to her was Mr Martin, a nervous looking man that was medium height, thin, and quite pale, his thinning hair combed over to one side to hide what seemed to be a growing bald patch in the middle of it.

"Please take a seat, Jonathon."

"I'd prefer to stand, thanks."

He'd only met her once, at the start of the year, when he'd joined. She shaken his hand, given him the once over, and told him to come to her if he had any trouble. Unfortunately for him, she was extremely astute. In order to fool her, he would have to bring his natural talent to full force to make sure that he that she had no idea that his father was currently ash, now dispersed to the elements.

Mrs Gena looked at him, a curious, invasive stare that he met evenly. 

"Jonathon, may I ask you why you fought with Harrison yesterday?"

"We had a disagreement. He-"

The door burst open, swing outward as a woman in a what seemed to be a handmade grey blazer and skirt marched into the room, her heels slamming into the carpet hard enough to make notable imprints. She was a female Harrison, the features looking just as good on her face as they did on his, albeit a little advanced in age. If she was anything to go by, he was going to age well. His nemesis himself came in behind her, looking surprised and then slightly smug all within the space of few seconds.

"Mrs Gena. Mr Martin." She turned her head slightly, noticing Jonathon for the first time. "And who is this?"

"That's Jonathon, Mum," Harrison piped up, sounding eager, while sneering at the same time. 

Her face changed, contorting as he had seen so many times into Harrison's famous sneer. At least he knew where he got it from now. 

"So this is the," she paused, her mouth moving excessively, as if she was choosing her word carefully "child that decided to fight with my son." It was quite clear there was another word she wanted to use. He idly wondered about which word it had been.

"So child, what do have to say for yourself?"

Jonathon watched her in amusement, enjoying the red colour that spread on her face when morphed his face into a caricature of indolence. 

"I said-"

"Mrs Evefield. I cannot have you addressing my students. That is not your place," Mrs Gena interjected, cutting her off.

"This hoodlum assaulted my son!"

"We are not sure of that yet. All we know so far is that there was a incident. I have not heard either side of the story from either of these two - which is what I am currently in the process of trying to do."

"Please, Mrs Evefield," Mr Martin said, getting up, wringing his hands together, seemingly quite in awe of Harrison's mother. He moved round, bringing the nearby chair, towards her. "Take a seat. I'm sure this will be resolved soon."

She fixed Jonathon with another glare, and took a seat, rather reluctantly, her eyes flickering between lasering into him, and shooting supportive looks at her son.

"Jonathon. Is your father in town? If he's here, we could-"

"There's no point. He's on a business trip for the next week. He said that I was old enough to deal with it myself." 

"Did he now?"

"I've been handling myself from the age of thirteen. I think I'll be alright."

She looked at him again, that piercing glare that tried to read his soul. He looked back. After staring down demon lords, angry Nephilim, faeries and everything else (except for an angel), there was no way she was going to see into his soul.

"I was about to hear your version of events."

Ignoring the looks of he was getting, Jonathon concisely and accurately told the room exactly what had happened, with no embellishments. 

When he had finished, Mrs Evefield looked ready to burst with rage.

But Mrs Gena simply raised a hand before she could speak. 

"Harrison, if you please."

"Well, I was in the common room, and Jonathon and Alyssa got into an argument. He was being really abusive to her, so I went over to stop him - he was trying to embarrass her in front of the entire common room. I just put hand on his shoulder, to get his attention - and then he became violent. I tried to placate him, tried to calm him, but he became even more vicious and then... we fought. I only responded to defend myself, which is why I have bruises and he doesn't."

Mrs Evefield could not restrain herself any longer. 

"And this why this vicious thug needs to be punished!"

"Mrs Evefield. I have heard two different versions of the same event. Someone is clearly not telling me the truth." 

"You've know my son for years. I think that you know who's telling you the truth," she snapped. She turned to Mr Martin. "You know my son! You know he wouldn't lie!"

"I- Ah- I must agree, I have never known Harrison Evefield to lie. An upstanding member of the school body..."

Jonathon just resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Pathetic sycophants irritated the hell out him. He wouldn't have been surprised if he heard a whip crack from somewhere behind him.

"I have asked other people about this fight - and I've heard both versions of this story from different people. I thought I would be able to tell who was lying - but I cannot."

She stood up, her expression blank. 

"Detention. For both of you. Two lunchtimes. I cannot have fighting in the Sixth Form. It is highly inappropriate, and not becoming of young adults."

"Mrs Gena," Harrison's mother replied, jumping up, "I must-"

"Mrs Evefield. I cannot ascertain exactly who is telling me the truth - so I have no choice but to punish both of them. Fortunately, I have mainly heard positive things about these two, which is why they are receiving lighter punishment than I would usually administer for such behaviour. This is not open for discussion."

Her lips pursed, almost to nothingness. She gripped her handbag tightly, her knuckles lightening. Her eyes blinked once, pointedly. 

"Thank you for your time. Have a nice day." She kissed her son on the cheek; he grimaced slightly, but didn't pull away.

She shot one final glare at Jonathon, and stalked out of the room, Mr Martin following her, trying to calm her indignant rage. 

Harrison left, following his mother's lead with a look that he needed to practise for another ten years before it would even be effective. He went to follow.

"Jonathon." 

He looked over his shoulder, not bothering to turn the rest of his body. Mrs Gena was watching him intently, pointedly.

"Is there anything you want to say to me?"

From the looks that she had shot Mrs Evefield and Harrison, and the clipped tone of every word she had said about the hearing positive things, she obviously knew who wasn't telling the truth. She expressions, her body language told him that she wanted to help. 

But Jonathon had never been one to have other people solve his problems.

"No. I said everything I had to say."

Once again, they looked at each other, regarding each other as if a duel was about to start.

She sat back down, looking away from him, a clear dismissal.

He turned and left the room.


	35. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People like being together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thnks for reading! Feel free to comment.

"He got me into detention. He pummelled me, humiliated me in front of my entire year, got me into trouble with my head of year-"

"I told you not to take him on by yourself, my darling."

Harrison stroked her long, dark hair, as she lay half on the bed, half atop him, whispering softly into his ear. She had appeared to him over regularly, slipping in when no-one was watching, making love to him whenever she arrived. 

She also came to check that their plans were well underway.

Harrison didn't know exactly what they were. She hadn't really explained them to him - except for the part where Jonathon was captured, and all his classmates were freed from the hypnotic spell that he'd placed them under. His position in the year would be assured, and Alyssa... Well, her words still stung.

I'll never be stupid enough to even look in your direction.

But the hope still remained that she would change her mind when she realised that he had saved her. 

She'd smile at him, that simple half smile. Maybe she'd give him a full smile. A hug. A kiss...

First though, he had to free her. From that Siren. That ancient Greek terror that had lured many a crew to shipwreck in the old days. He clenched his hand into a fist. He'd have found it hard to believe - until his new companion had showed him her abilities. 

"It's an ancient skill," she had said. "A trick of the mind, so that we can get in and out of places undetected, and without Sirens and authorities realising who we were, and what we do."

She'd changed before his eyes, morphing into a series of people, all completely different from the rest. Tall, short, dark, light, every eye colour, every hair colour, different genders, and some who looked completely androgynous.

"I can't maintain it for long. But it helps. I've defeated more than eight Sirens using this."

Harrison had gaped at her, staring as she turned back into her usual state, long black hair, amber eyes, a beautiful smile. He'd been convinced from then on, and had followed all her instructions to the letter. She'd given him a map of the school, marking certain points on it. Every time she came, she gave him a small card with a symbol on it, all different, and unlike anything that he'd ever seen before. They all looked strange to him - some of them even hurt to look at. But he ignored it, crushing and doubts, and soldiered on, fully believing that she would give him what he rightfully deserved.

Marvelling at his luck, he looked at his partner in crime. She wouldn't tell him her name. Not even a letter. 

"Names have power in my world. If we succeed in defeating this Siren, I will tell you. But not before."

He hoped she would tell him. He wanted to know the name of the one who was second in his heart.

So he took that odd black liquid that she gave him, careful not to spill a drop of it on his skin, while painted the symbols at specific points around the school, surrounding it with other symbols that she had told him to add to them. He did it early in the morning, late after sports practise; but never in the full swing of the school day, never when there was high chance of him being seen. 

"Harrison?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't take him on anymore. We can't have him stumbling onto it before he's supposed to."

"I won't. I mean, I'll try, but he just frustrates me so much. I can't help it." 

"Can I convince you to leave him alone?" she said, her tone light and flirtatious.

"Convince me."

As the Eidolon demon went through the motions once more, it laughed to itself. 

Humans. 

................................................................................

Time moved on, the summer passing as the two of them happily moved on with their relationship. They had a few more arguments - as every couple did. But they smoothed them over, never allowing them to blow up as they had before. The occasional vicious barb was exchanged - but they made up in the end, never letting the day end without having talked it out. They might not have been the best of friends the next morning, but they were always alright in the end. 

Sparring, making out, restaurants, films, trips... They did it all. While still managing to keep up with their schoolwork, and friends. 

Then exam season set in. 

Long hours spent writing down the culmination of knowledge that he had learnt. The questions weren't always easy, and it always felt as if he didn't have enough time to finish exactly what he wanted to say. It was a challenge. A challenge against himself. Against the exam board. Against all the other children that took the exams. 

But most of all, it was fun. 

It wasn't something he had to do. He didn't need to get A-levels, or plan for university. Jonathon didn't need to worry about any of the stuff most other people his age had to. He had enough money to last him a lifetime. His eyes had nearly burst from his skull when he'd done a full inventory of Valentine's accounts. 

He was doing it because he wanted to. Which was why it was so perfect.

Then they were over, the final pen mark etched in the last sheet of paper, the last inscription from his mind placed down for someone to mark and judge. But he didn't really mind about any of that. Summer was really here. Fun, minimum work, and lots and lots of sunshine. He hoped. British weather didn't promise much. Maybe he should go abroad, he thought idly. With his friends. 

He brought it up while he was sitting with in Nando's, their first relaxed meal since exam season had begun. Matt and Yi had finished their exams earlier and weren't with them, but Jonathon and Nate had finished with Philosophy, so Alyssa had met them at the chain restaurant, looking as elegant and robust as usual.

"Holiday?"

"Yeah. I've been all over the world, but never with my friends. Never enough time. I was too young, my father said. But now that I'm old enough, apparently."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Alyssa said, after she swallowed a mouthful of chicken and potatoes, snagging a piece of garlic bread from her boyfriend's plate, who in turn stole a forkful of her rice.

"That's alright for the two of you," Nate laughed. "I barely have money for a trip to Scotland, let alone out of the country."

"I can help with that," Jonathon said. "It's no trouble. I've saved a lot of the money my dad's given me. It's no trouble really."

"I can't accept that. That's... too much. I've known you for about five months, nearly six months?"

"Nate, I wouldn't offer if I wasn't serious about it. I want go on holiday - and I want you to come."

"We want you to come," Alyssa amended. "And if you won't let him pay for you, then I will."

"Guys-"

"Don't protest. One of us will pay for. Or we'll split the cost. Or all three of us can split the cost. Either way, as long as you're coming, that's what's important. You can argue with Jonathon. But don't think you can argue with me. As long as your parents say yes, you're coming. Just pretty boy here for a week or two is too much for me to handle."

Nate looked sceptically at the her. "I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah. I'm embellishing the truth. We still want you on board, though."

"Maybe we'll find you a summer girlfriend," Jonathon laughed. "It shouldn't be hard, with the way you've been working out."

"So where are going to go then?"

The conversation descended into a verbal tennis match between the two of them, as they debated where to go, while Jonathon ripped into a piece of chicken. 

It was going to be a good summer.

.....................................................................................................

Nate left them after the restaurant, saying that he had to go home and celebrate with his family. 

"Tradition," he said, when Jonathon asked why. "They like to celebrate stuff. I'll catch up with you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

They ambled off in different directions, Jonathon and Alyssa swinging their hands as they walked down the street, feeling light and free. They arrived at Jonathon's house, and he went inside, the temperature drop pleasant as they got out of the sun.

"You want to watch a film?"

"Yeah. I'll get the drinks?"

"No," Jonathon smiled. "Let me. It's a special occasion."

"You've got something special?"

"Yeah. Go make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a minute."

She wandered into his small front room, while he went to fridge, and took out two bottles of faerie wine that he'd placed there earlier in the day. Grabbing the tray of sandwiches he had prepared earlier on, he placed them all onto a tray, and wandered back into the front room.

Alyssa was already curled up on the sofa, her body elegant and sinuous. She looked at the tray appreciatively. 

"It almost scares me how well you know me."

"That wasn't enough food for either of us. Either one of us could've eaten most of what was on the table."

"So you prepared an after snack?"

"Yep. Every sandwich imaginable. Take your pick."

"What can't you do?"

"Quite a lot," Jonathon replied. "But nothing instantly springs to mind."

With that, the two of them sat down, wrapping their arms around each other, snuggling into each other, as they sipped on the faerie wine, and nibbled on the sandwiches, going for refills when they need to, their attention only partially on the film, the other half of their concentration completely devoted to the body next to them, their proximity almost uncomfortable due to the warmth of their bodies and the hot summer day.

Neither of them cared in the slightest. 

One film ended, and they stayed right where they were, Jonathon only getting up to change the DVD. When he flopped into the sofa, she sprang up, collapsing into his lap with a thud, her beautiful copper gold skin going round his neck, as his arm went around her waist, their free hands clasping together. His large hand with her smaller one, pale and orichalcum, clashing in a beautiful blend of colour, her head resting on his shoulder, her breath merely a whisper on his neck. Jonathon watched the veins running under the surface, and up their arms, feeling the rough skin on their hands touching each, the movements they made minimal, but so pleasurable at the same time. 

About half way through the film, she spoke.

"Jon. Do you want to come to my house on Saturday?"

He thought he'd misheard. It was warm, he was comfortable, incredibly happy. His brain wasn't exactly working this late at night (if he wasn't fighting), so he shook his head from side to side gently to clear the fog. 

"What did you say?"

She caught the tip of his ear in her teeth, her tongue lashing out slightly to replace them, making him shudder.

"I said, do you want to come to my house on Saturday?"

This was unexpected and unasked. 

However, it was certainly not unwanted.

He'd never felt the need to ask her about her home, perfectly content to just have her come to his or Nate's, or to go out somewhere. He knew what it was like to want your own sanctuary, to want somewhere that was just yours, somewhere that was a safe haven. Only Nate had been to her house, and even then, it had only been a year and a half after they'd met. Warrior's instinct. Never reveal your fortress to anyone. Not if you didn't have to. 

She really trusted him.

"I'd love to. Absolutely love do. What time?"

"Make it the afternoon. I'm going to cook for you."

"Something special?"

"I don't know. We'll have to see. Just don't expect something that came from a Michelin Star restaurant."

"I'm not. I'm expecting something you made - which is what's important."

"Not if it tastes bad."

"That's what takeaways are for."

"I will beat you up."

"I know."

She laughed, and he shifted, kissing her forehead, her hair tickling his nose, the scent of the forest, honey, roses filling his senses. He squeezed her slightly, a tightening of his arms around her, the feeling of wanting her pressed into him overwhelming and instinctive. Squeezing his hand in hers, she snuggled closer into him, and they watched the rest of the film in silence, just happy to be together.


	36. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience can be a virtue. But patient love is the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.

He knew which house was hers even before he started looking at the house numbers. 

Jonathon just had to stop at look at it before he went down the path. It was remarkable.

Flowers grew everywhere; roses, sweet peas, peonies, sunflowers, rhododendrons, lilies, irises and myriads of others that he couldn't be bothered to identify. Vines and ivy intertwined, Curling up the walls, reaching halfway up the house. It was a front garden of someone who absolutely loved nature - or someone who was secretly a faerie. Which in this some case, was one and the same thing. A large tree with wide, stretching branches sprouted right out of the earth next to the path, the green foliage filtering the light, patches of the unblemished sunshine dancing into one another as the leaves shuffled in the mild breeze, the rustling quiet and almost atmospheric. 

He'd knew that faeries had an affinity for nature, but given his girlfriend's distinctive lack of Fair Folk traits, it had somehow never occurred to him that she might actually have a green thumb. 

It was also hard to picture Alyssa doing gardening, although now that he could see the evidence for himself, it slotted into place a lot more easily than he had expected. The plants looked slightly untamed and wild, but there was still an air of order in the garden, so much like its mistress. 

There was still so much he didn't know about her. 

But he would wait. Rushing her was not something he was willing to risk - even if she would just brush and laugh it off, as if nothing had happened. 

He looked at orchids that he'd bought her, and wondered if she was going to like them. They looked sort of pathetic in comparison to what she had grown. Maybe she'd just appreciate the gesture. 

Taking a deep breath, he walked to the front door and rang doorbell, the stained glass windows catching the light, glimmering with an air of faux holiness, the solid brown wood they were set into perfectly indifferent to the solar rays. 

It swung open with a quiet creak, and she stood there, one hand on her hip, the other still on the door frame, not even blinking in the intense light. Dressed casually, and in her faerie form, she caught him completely off guard, as the sunlight danced across her, not only framing her, but enhancing her beauty, her loose hair tumbling both in front and behind her.

"Hey, Jon. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just admiring your garden."

Her half smile appeared on her face. "You like it? I planted it on an impulse, when I first moved in."

"Why?"

"I didn't like the look of my neighbours. And it was cheaper than building a higher fence. Less conspicuous as well. Are those for me?" she said, suddenly changing topic, and taking the flowers from his hand.

"Yeah. Although, I think they're sort of redundant now. You have much nicer looking flowers here."

Alyssa rolled his eyes, and reached out, flicking him on the forehead.

"Idiot."

She turned and walked back into the house, Jonathon following behind her, taking his first look at his girlfriend's home.

Square walnut panelling lined the walls, the sunlight streaming through the stained glass rooms, lighting up what would be a shadowy corridor in winter.

"You need some help?"

"I've already set the table. Just go and sit down - I'll bring the food in. It's nearly done."

He turned into the front room, painted in a dusky light orange, catching and yet inoffensive at the same time. The table in the room was small, able to hold about four people, the wooden cabinets and the chairs matching the panelling outside. The plates were china, the cutlery stainless steel and the tables cloth white, with a narrow silver edge. A small television, with a couple of armchairs sat at the other end of the room, the entire room carpeted in cream. 

No sooner had he sat down did Alyssa appear, from the door at the other end of the room that led to the kitchen. 

"You can come and help me bring the dishes in. I think I've cooked enough. For the two of us, at least."

As he approached the door, she appeared again, passing him a large bowl full of rice, mixed with spices and an assortment of vegetables, that blended perfectly into it, turning the rice an exotic yellowy brown colour, the legumes adding greens, yellows and reds to it. 

By the time he had placed it on the table, she had reappeared, holding a deep dish full of lamb chucks that looked soft, tender and browned, the scent of various herbs rising from the steaming meat. A pot of yogurt followed, as well as some salad, gently grilled pitta bread and hummus. 

"Greek influence?"

"Turkish as well."

"Hmm. Byzantium, then."

"You and your Shadowhunter training."

They sat down, at opposite ends of the table, piling their plates high with the food, eating it slowly while they talked, Alyssa only getting up to go a retrieve a vintage bottle of wine from the 1800's that complimented the meal perfectly, the two of them taking sips of it between mouthfuls. 

It was truly picturesque, the room well lit in the natural light, the two of them just being themselves, exchanging gentle jibes and opinions easily. Their initial conversations had never been awkward, but now there was an ease between them that made everything flow smoothly and completely naturally, neither of them feeling the need to impress to other. The conversation continued long after the food had, neither of them having a need to move, or even suggest that they do something else. They sipped water as the afternoon wore on, not even been bothering to move to the softer chairs.

Jonathon couldn't help but admire her while they spoke. Everything about her was perfect to him. It sounded like such a cliché, but he honestly meant it. He couldn't help but stare at her, especially when they were alone.

"Jon? Jon?"

"Sorry. Zoned out there."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Honestly? You."

That half smile again. "I have to admit, I can't help but do the same. You are one damn handsome boy, Jonathon Morgenstern."

He couldn't resist anymore.

He got up, and went round the table to meet her, as she stood up, the two of them kissing gently at first, gradually growing more and more intense as they continued, their arms wrapping round each other neither of them wanting to let the other go. The attraction rose up between them, a powerful flare that made his heart pound with deafening thuds, the blood rushing all over his body as they held each other, the two of them almost lost in one another.

Alyssa broke of the kiss, holding him even tighter, resting her head on his collarbone, as his teeth rested lightly on her ear. 

"Jonathon."

"Hmm?"

"I want all of you."

He had to stop himself from tensing, both with nervousness and anticipation. They'd never had full on sex - once again, him not wanting to suggest it, even though he knew she wouldn't have been offended by it. But now that she said that she wanted to, he was nervous. 

He knew what he was doing - but lovemaking and sex were two very different things. Sebastian had loads of experience with the second. Jonathon had had some very little experience with the first. He wasn't sure how he was going to put the two together.

"Nervous, Jon?"

"Yeah. I don't want it to be bad. Our first time, I mean."

She leaned back, silver and green meeting with an intensity that few people would've been able to hold.

"It won't be."

With that, she took him by the hand, and took him upstairs, Jonathon's mind completely in a daze as they entered her bedroom. He barely had time to look at the light green, silver and white colour scheme before he on her king sized bed, side by side, neither of them coming up for air as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Hands moved of their own accord, fingers moving over muscles and sinew. Nothing was off limits, the two of them wandering wherever they saw fit. He rolled, putting himself over her, kissing her with careless abandon, his nervousness seeping away as she reached up, and pulled off his t-shirt, dancing her digits over his arms, chest and abdomen, his breath hitching as she did. Then she rolled him over, letting him remove her top. She kissed him fiercely as he undid her bra, removing it, as she let herself lie on top of him. 

Her soft warmth pressed into him, and they rolled back onto their sides, the Shadowhunter reaching up with one hand to squeeze her, the other still half trapped under him, stroking her hair. He felt her smile into his mouth, as she undid his jeans, and pulled them down, the two of them laughing as the struggled to get the stiff material off him. The faerie slid out hers much easily, the two them becoming inseparable again, the two of them pressing their lower halves into each other, until Alyssa rolled atop Jonathon again, as he kissed his way down her neck, following the centre of her chest until he reached her breasts, taking them in his mouth one by one, licking the nipples gently, covering his teeth with his lips so he could apply some pressure. 

She gasped under his attentive touch, her fingers digging into his back. He continued, her quiet moans making him harden so that he was straining against his confinement. But he continued to attend to her, as he slid down, his entire body passing through her legs, as she slid up him, his tongue refusing to stop moving until he reached her most sensitive spot, pulling the thin garment she wore apart with his hands. She hovered above his face, as Jonathon used his tongue and lips like a delicate instrument, her hands bracing herself against the wall, as she let out little cries of pleasure, his muscular arms locked around her thighs to keep her in place. 

Abruptly, she stood up, breaking his grip on her, turning round, so that she was facing the other way, before she lowered herself back down. 

Jonathon's lips began to move once more - as Alyssa mimicked his earlier motion, ripping his shorts apart, gently kissing the head she found there, making him twitch and moan into her. A lick down his shaft made him shudder all over, as she eventually took all of him in her mouth, making him arch his back, as she pressed down into him, using both her hand and mouth on him expertly, relentlessly, as he did the same to her, using his fingers to please her where his mouth wasn't, dipping inside of her with one, then two, then three, running his hand down her spine, squeezing her cheeks, alternating between gentle and hard. 

It felt so good, so right, her scent, honey, cinnamon, and a thousand other scents overwhelming him, his lust raising through him. But it wasn't just lust - it was something beyond that, something more refined, cultured and intense.

But they'd done all of this before. It never got old though, but they'd always stopped before they'd gone the full way. 

It was going to be different this time though. 

She removed herself from him, reaching out with a hand and grabbing a foil packet from the drawer of the bedside table, before she kissed him from the side , opening the packet, and rolling it down him, stroking him softly while he twitched under her grasp.

"Ready?"

He reached up, and pulled her atop him again, as she kissed him hard. His next word was whispered, sensual and full of longing.

"Yeah."

She grabbed him without breaking off their kiss, and slid backward onto him, in one smooth motion, releasing him as the tip entered her before she encased him all the way.

He had to break off the kiss as he gave a little howl, as she stared down at him pleasure and amusement on her face.

"Didn't know I was dating a werewolf."

"Don't move. Give me a minute to adjust," he said, his voice rising at the end of the sentence as flexed slightly, making him pant, the look of amusement in her eyes growing, as did the pleasure. 

He groaned, as she pinned his hands behind above his head, and began to move, backward and forward, feeling his face twist with pleasure and the slightest bit of frustration that he couldn't touch her. Her eyes were closed, her skin glowing as she moved, gradually increasing the frequency of her movements, as she bent down and kissed him, refusing to release his arms.

When she came up for air, he gasped getting out the words that wanted to say. 

"Need- Need to-"

"What, Jon?" she whispered into his ear, giving her hips an extra flex, making his involuntarily push up into him, cutting off his speech. "What?"

"Need- Need to touch you."

"Go wild," she replied, whispering seductively in his ear, licking it before she released his hands. 

He hands flew to her as if they were magnetised, running all over her, her burning orichalcum skin soft, contrasting the hard muscle underneath. His mouth returned to her breasts, as she continued to move, his hands clutching her close. He wanted to drink her in, to absorb her, to be one with her. Then Alyssa was pulling him back to her mouth, before whispering to him once more. 

"Time for you to put some work in."

They stayed like that for a minute, upright, Jonathon flexing his pelvis into hers slowly at first, his arms locked around her back, while one of hers gripped his hair, the other digging into his back. Laying her down gently on her back, his hips finding a gentle rhythm with hers, the two them still kissing, as their skins seared against each other.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. So sensual and measured, every movement giving the two of them, pleasure beyond pleasure. 

"Alyssa," he moaned. "I can't-"

"Don't hold back."

And so he didn't. 

He kissed her hard, and began to flex his torso with the rhythmic motions of a dancer and warrior. 

For once, he was glad Sebastian had been such a playboy. 

The moans that reverberated from their mouths mingled, the two of them unable to control themselves, as she locked her arms and legs around him, while he moved within her, the two of them completely beyond control, neither of them thinking of anything else but the pure energy that crackled between them, the feel of the their bodies truly pressed against each other-

Before he could realise it, he was there, completely pushing himself into her, as she pushed up into him, clinging to him with everything she had as she came as well, their two cries probably disturbing everyone for miles around.

He collapsed on top of her, completely spent, having just enough presence of mind, to move off of her - but she kept her arms locked around him, the two of them panting heavily, but quietly. Jonathon eventually managed to open his eyes, and saw her silver ones staring at him, that half smile on her face making him hope that she would want to go for another round. 

"So?" he finally managed to get out.

"I don't know what you were worried about. You were great."

Every lingering doubt melted away as she kissed him again. 

"Thank you, Al."

"I should be thanking you. I needed that," she replied, snuggling up next to him. 

"I think I needed it as much as you did," he replied as she pressed into again. He smiled at her, his confidence growing. "You want to go again?"

"Don't you need some time to recover?"

"Give me fifteen, twenty minutes."

She kissed him again, as he stroked her hair. 

"Exactly what I wanted to hear."


	37. Tipping Scale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times are changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Jonathon woke up the next morning to someone kissing his forehead.

"Morning, sleepy head."

"Did I fall asleep on you?"

"Yep."

"Sorry."

"No need. That last session was pretty intense. Honestly, I'm surprised that you lasted that long. You are Nephilim, but fundamentally, you're still human. Even if you are an incredibly fit human being."

He kissed her, thinking that words would not be enough to convey what he wanted to say.

"You got anything to do today?" she asked, when they finally managed to separate their lips. 

"Nope. I'm all yours."

"All mine?" she said, as her hand slid down under the covers.

"I promise. I love you, Alyssa."

She froze, and Jonathon had to stop himself from physically slapping his forehead. Was he possessed? Why had he just blurted that out? It was the type of thing to be said over a romantic dinner, or on a long walk. It wasn't the type of thing you said when you were just about to make out.

"You know that you're really cute when you blush."

"Don't tease me," he began to mumble, embarrassed. "That was so- so-"

"Well, I like it. But not as much as I love you, Jonathon."

He started at the words, looking at her, the unique eyes pinioning him to the pillow with his intensity. 

"And no, I'm not saying that just because you said it first. I really do, Jon. Normally, I would never say that. To anyone. But for some reason, you manage to get under my skin. In the best way possible, of course."

"But-"

"That fact that you just said it spontaneously means a whole lot more to me than if you had done it with some complicated social ritual. You really meant it. And that's... well, for me, that's special." Her hand continued on its path downward, reaching him, seeing if he was ready to be one with her once more.

"Isn't sex a complicated social ritual?"

"Depends. But know this. Jonathon Morgenstern. I do love you."

He kissed her as she rolled on top of him.

"And I love you too," he whispered back to her once more, as they began again.

It was good to be alive. 

But it was better to be together.

...................................................................

The rest of the day was spent, eating, making out and just being together, enjoying and adjusting to this new level of intimacy. They cooked breakfast, made lunch, but couldn't be bothered with dinner, and instead opted for ordering in Chinese, boxes and boxes of it to satisfy their heightened metabolism. 

He left just before sunset, his final gaze of Alyssa for that being her framed by the electric light in her front door, framed by all the natural beauty that she had allowed to take over her garden.

The image burned his mind as he walked home, unbelievably happy, even by his own standards. 

He had everything he'd ever wanted. Everything that was denied to him from before birth. Everything that Valentine and Lilith had prevented him from being and knowing - it was all his. A home, school, friends, a girlfriend who loved him. 

When he'd left Idris he'd never imagined that he would be able to achieve so much in such a short space of time. From nothing to everything. He loved the feeling, loved the sense of completion that he had found, without doing anything but being himself. Making mistakes, learning how to function in the mortal world... It had all led to something that he hadn't truly believed was possible. He'd hoped it, thought about it, fantasised about it.

Now that it actually had happened, it was better than he had even imagined. 

He couldn't help but hum all the way home, elated that everything was going well. 

............................................................................................................. 

A week and half later

"Are we ready to proceed?"

"We are now," the Queen of Demons replied, smiling at her ally. "I am near fully restored. It will suffice for what I have planned." 

Catching a glimpse of herself in the in the goblet of demon ichor that she sipped, Lilith couldn't help but be happy - an emotion that for her had a correlation with someone getting injured. Or dying. 

A steady diet of malicious and malevolent humans, along with the very occasional faerie had restored the majority of her power. Her skin had been restored to its porcelain whiteness, her hair as dark as her soul, yet still managing to shine in the dim light, her features refined and perfect once again. 

She had returned to her normal height, and was once again dressed in the dark coat that had become her trademark when she was on earth. She did quite like the range of fashions available in the modern era - but this simple look was the one she favoured the most.

The Queen of the Seelie Court looked as regal as ever, and between the two of them, they would've been the belles of any ball, the centre of attention of any room they entered. Anyone meeting them for the first time would've assumed they were two normal, extremely beautiful women that were simply having a chat.

Looks were very deceiving.

"So we will take him, then?"

"That would be the best and easiest way as well. That faerie that's he's dating might be a problem - but I think I will leave her to you?"

"She will obey me. I am her Queen after all."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that."

"This is not the realm of demons. We faeries pay our dues when we must. As she will. Having limited resources, we have not identified her yet - but as I said before, she should be no trouble at all."

Lilith inclined her head slightly, her face not at all betraying the wave of mirth that was rearing up inside of her. 

No ruler should be so assured of their subjects loyalty. Especially a ruler whose kingdom was in such turmoil.

But this naivety of hers was most delicious. For someone so old, there were some serious lapses in her judgement and reasoning. 

Just as well for her.

"To us," Lilith said aloud, raising her cup to the other Queen. "And to the restoration of our rightful power."

"To us," the Queen of the Seelie Court responded, too consumed by her own desires to remember the first rule of the Shadow World.

Never trust a demon. 

Especially one that came to you with a smile.

"Once Jonathon is restored to Sebastian, what will we do?" the fiery haired faerie asked, taking a slow sip of her drink.

"What would you suggest? Personally, I want to burn Alicante to the ground, the poison the country of Idris. Then my children will hunt the Nephilim to extinction."

"They need to be terrified first," the Seelie Queen replied. "They must suffer for the stain that they have placed on my people. We should start by abducting their children, disabling their wards. They must cry out for mercy-"

Lilith stopped her lips from twitching upward, as the faerie went on and on with how the Nephilim and the human race as an extension would suffer. 

The entire world would be crying out for mercy when she was finished. 

And this precious world, the jewel in Heaven's creations would finally be hers. 

She couldn't wait to see the angels weep.

"Contact our Vire and my Eidolon. There's no need to wait any longer. There will be plenty of time to celebrate after we're done."

...................................................................................................

"Our mistresses are ready for us to move," Vire announced grandly, entering the room, flexing his shoulders. "We begin tomorrow morning."

"it's about time," the Eidolon grumbled from its corner. "It's been terribly boring."

"The smile that was on your face every time you came back tells me otherwise. How many are dead because of your nightly activities?"

"Not as many as you might think. I've behaved myself. Wouldn't want to upset the apple cart by drawing too much attention to the area. I think both Queens would be very unhappy if the Children of Raziel decided to crash this party."

"At least you're that restrained. But I think the worries about the Nephilim are unwarranted. They are still far too busy licking their wounds from the Dark War. They have lost many of their filthy kind."

"But with the Cup of theirs, they'll be more in no time at all. Now that they don't have a looming threat, they can take the time to teach and train the next generation of Shadowhunters."

"But now they're vulnerable. Depleted ranks, spread thin. They've lost their alliance with us. The only other Downworlders that could actually help them are recovering from the lost of Praetor Lupus. The warlocks are unpredictable, as are the vampires. They are more alone and defenceless than ever. Although I do not like the idea of Sebastian Morgenstern's return, I will admit that with him leading the charge against the Nephilim, they will be most unnerved. His second resurrection. I think that, above everything else, will terrify them beyond belief."

The demon sprang to its feet, eyes gleaming as its skin began to ripple, a laugh tricking from its lips. 

"As it should. I may as well enjoy the local cuisine while I still can. One more trip, then. One last foray into the human masses before we have to leave."

"Not soon enough. Participating in human civilisation makes my skin crawl."

"You should live a bit more. They're fun - until you have to kill them."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to play with your food?"

The demon's smile widened as he left.

"In fact, I was taught the opposite."

....................................................................................

"My Harrison. My dear Harrison. It will all be over soon."

The boy sat up, blinking. He fallen asleep in his bed, not expecting to see his fiery eyed lover tonight.

But there she was, at the end of the bed, waiting for him. 

"What- What do you mean?"

"The time is here. The spell we are going to cast will work best in a few days. Be prepared to help me when the time comes."

"And then everyone will be free?" he asked blearily, still half intoxicated by sleep.

"Then everyone will be free," she said, moving round to the side of his bed, stroking his head as she slipped in beside him. "This will be the last time we see each other before then."

She tilted his head, upward, leaning over him seductively. 

"Let us make it memorable."

..............................................................................................

Jonathon and Alyssa lay together on the sofa. They had been watching TV, but they hadn't really be paying attention, and had ended up making love on the sofa.

Now they were just talking, the two of them laughing with each other, slightly tired and sweaty wearing nothing but their birthday suits, and not caring in the slightest. Jonathon's head rested in Alyssa's lap, his legs stretched out over the end of the sofa. 

She traced all eight of the muscles of his abdomen, as they moved up and down slowly, while he reached up and brushed her cheekbones, before he took her other hand in his, bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss the back of it. 

"A gentleman," she mused. 

"My father had dubious morals and perfect manners. One of them was worthwhile keeping."

"Which one?" she teased.

"You tell me."

She tickled his ribcage, and he squirmed tickling her, resulting in a frenzy that made them both breathless as neither of them could get the upper hand. It finished with the two of them lying on the floor next to each other, panting, not touching, the proximity to each other more than enough to satisfy their needs. 

"You want to sleep over tonight?"

"Yeah," she replied. 

"Good." 

"You sound like a cat who just got the cream."

"I like waking up next to you."

"You have such a silver tongue."

"An honest silver tongue."

"The best kind."

He listened to the sound of her breathing, loving every moment to it, the very sound of her making him elated. 

He wondered if everyone who fell in love felt like this. 

"You ready to go bed then?" he said, wanting to just hold her tight to him.

"Sure. I've got my own personal body warmer with me. Sleep sounds pretty good."

He stood up, and offered her a hand that she accepted - and suddenly Alyssa found herself in his arms. 

"Seriously?" she smiled at him.

"Why not?" 

"Because-"

She blurred with her faerie speed, and suddenly he was the one in her arms. 

"If you can do it, so can I. And don't even say you feel emasculated."

"I wouldn't even dream of it. When did you ever play by the rules?"

She kissed him. "Never. Damn, you're heavy."

"Giddy up. And I'm carrying you next time."

"We'll take it in turns."

She laughed, and soon they were upstairs, still chuckling to themselves as they fell asleep, peaceful and happy, their world quiet and straightforward.

It was a shame that it was about get severely bent out of shape.


	38. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reality always sets in.

Walking to school. An ordinary, mundane activity that was done without thought at this age, without question, without consideration that anything obscure or odd was going to happen. 

It was going to be a warm, relatively clear day, the wispy clouds overhead fighting valiantly to retain their existence as the sun began to burn overhead. 

His blazer was off, and he was on the way to meet his friends before they settled down for another day of lessons. 

He mind wondered to what he was going to have for lunch today, and then to dinner, and then to everything else he had to do, what he was going to do for the rest of the week-

Then something struck him in the back of the head, and his head spun as he pitched forward, taken completely unaware by the surprise attack, stumbling, his mind working in overtime as he spun around, preparing to counterattack. Another fist struck him in the side, and then there was one to the head, a knee to the stomach, and then an elbow to the back of his skull that sent he crashing to the pavement. 

Someone didn't want him getting up. 

But they didn't know him that well. 

Lashing out from where he heard the footsteps, his fist collided with what felt like a thigh. 

No use. 

Another blow pounded into his head, smashing it into the pavement with just enough force not the break the bones in his face.

He felt himself being dragged, unable to resist, as someone seized his arms, and yanked him off the floor, unceremoniously dumping him in something that was felt like rough carpet. 

Something whispered something - a language that he didn't understand, it didn't even sound like anything that he'd heard before -and then a wave of tiredness was sweeping down on him, a forced sleep, a conscripted rest that he really didn't want to give into. But he couldn't help it.

His head thudded, his body hurt, and his eyes closed, as he fell into a sleep that was full of raw, undiluted darkness.

.......................................................................................

"Where is he?"

"I have no idea."

Jonathon checked his phone again, knowing that nothing had come through, and not caring. It was involuntary, impulsive, illogical. Against everything his father had beaten and breed into him. But he still didn't care. 

"This feels wrong. This isn't like Nate at all," Jonathon said, slamming the crest of the rising anxiety within him in a box that he truly didn't want to open.

It had been a bit of a surprise when he had arrived at school this morning, only to find Nate's seat conspicuously vacant, a strange rarity.

Nate was always in. Rain, snow, blazing heat, whether he was feeling hundred percent, or like he was going to collapse prone on the floor. Him not being there was odd enough, but the fact that there was no message saying why, and no reply to any of their messages set both Alyssa and Jonathon on edge. 

Alarm bells really began to ring when their teachers sought them out in the break, and asked them if they had seen or heard from him.

"Why do you ask?" Alyssa had responded. She'd heard from Jonathon earlier in the day that Nate was absent, but the teacher's interest in the situation make her brow furrow ever so slightly. 

"School policy states that we call home if we haven't received a reason as to why a student is absent. We called home, but both of his parents were out. We eventually got hold of his mother who said that he left the house at normal time, fully prepared to go to school. She even called his father to check if there was something that she had missed - there wasn't. All we know his that Nate left home, and simply didn't arrive at school."

The police hadn't been called yet. He might have simply missed school, the teachers reasoned, deciding to go on a little outing instead, as they tried to convince his parents of the same.

No-one was buying it. 

This was Nate. If he had decided to take a day off school for anything, he would've sent in a note, or made a phone call to the school so that they didn't ring his parents. Wandering off like that was not the intelligent, organised Nate they knew. Not in the slightest. 

More importantly, he hadn't told Alyssa. The two of them spoke all the time, and there was no way in hell that he would've omitted to tell her about this. 

Jonathon and Alyssa had looked at each other sideways when the school said they weren't reporting it in yet. In spite of that, they had waited, on the off chance that it was possibly what everyone was hoping it was. 

But when the called the Carlistes at eight o'clock that evening, they found out that they had called the police and already alerted them to the disappearance, although they hadn't had much luck with that either. Both Mr and Mrs Carliste were driving around looking for their son. His sister had answered the phone, and had sounded pretty distressed.

"They don't know Nate," she had told Alyssa down the phone. "He'd never do something like this. He knows how our parents get, and that they'd ground him if he pulled a stunt like that. He had to fight for this level of freedom - there's no way he'd jeopardise it by just wandering off!"

Once she'd got off the phone with her, she had turned to Jonathon. 

"This has gone on for too long." 

They were at her house this time, in the room upstairs that she had converted into her own little training room when she had moved in all those years ago. The weapons were confined to one wall, but were all specially made and designed for her decades before. Simple, practical elegance was the common theme throughout all the various weapons, all of them perfectly balanced and maintained.

Right now, she was selecting some of them, slipping them a special adapted belt and sheathes that were attached to the inner lining of the long jacket that she was wearing. Then they were walking downstairs and were out of the house stalking towards Jonathon's place.

"We'll swing by your house to pick up some stuff for you. We're going to track him down. I can't believe I actually waited this long."

"Do you think it's someone from our world?" Jonathon said, bluntly putting out there what they were both thinking. 

"It's possible. I don't believe in coincidence - and the fact that we sensed that demon in school, even if it was all those months ago makes me suspicious."

"I should've gone after it."

"In broad daylight? And how would you have gotten out of school to follow it?"

"Still... If it turns out that he was kidnapped because of me..."

"It could be because of me. I'm not exactly the most popular person in the Shadow World."

"But you've lived here for years, and nothing's happened. I show up - and then Nate gets abducted? And I don't care what they've said about him wandering off. That's not him. At all."

"Trust me, I know."

In and out of Jonathon's abode they went, the two of them standing on the pavement in front of his home.

The two of them held on to the same object of Nate's they had, a bracelet that he had painstakingly engraved for Alyssa supposed fifteenth birthday. It had been a one-time thing that had come out slightly wonky, but she had treasured it all the same, one of the first meaningful birthday gifts that the faerie had ever received.

It contained Nate, his essence, his kindness. 

Jonathon spoke the warlock variant of the spell, while Alyssa intoned the faerie version. The both flinched, as they were overwhelmed with a rush of images that flowed into their minds, leading them to where their friends was-

Until they hit a wall. 

They got one final image, and then everything went dark. They could sense their friend, but they couldn't see him. The fact that the spell worked meant he was alive - but the fact that they were stopped worried them. The spell was meant to allow them to see in more detail, especially since there were two of them casting it. 

The fact that it had been blocked was ominous in itself.

It meant that they definitely were dealing with someone from the Shadow World. And it also meant that they knew what the two of them were capable of to some degree. Altogether, not good.

They looked at each other, the silent message passing between them effortlessly. 

As one, they moved, heading in the direction that the spell indicated, their strides slightly different to usual, their entire stance offbeat to what was considered normal. Which was excellent for what they had planned.

Tonight, their guise as casual citizens wasn't necessary. It was time to go back to basics. 

Back to being warriors.

..............................................................................

One taxi ride later, they were standing in front of the last image that had been seared into their minds.

A large restaurant, closed for refurbishment, the windows whitewashed so people couldn't see in, scaffolding and banners warding people off, telling those passing by that it would return to business bigger and better than ever.

Yet it was the rolling presence of demonic power that made them both draw their weapons - glamoured, of course - and tense, letting their instincts take over, allowing the reptilian part of their brain a little more room to manoeuvre, as they prepared to enter, knowing that whatever was going to be in there was not going to be pleasant.

They also now knew which one of them was responsible for this situation.

"Alyssa. I want you to-"

"Remember my one rule, Jonathon."

"These are demons. Not faeries. Not people. And you don't have any adamas with you."

"Don't worry. My sword is runed, and reinforced. I had it specially made for me years ago, since I had a run-in with Elapid and a couple of Dragonidae who nearly killed me, and murdered a couple of my friends. I got my own back with this," she added, hefting the blade. Lines of shallow carvings into the metal gave it a weathered look, rows and rows of runes that would allow the blade to carve a demon to shreds."

He still wanted her not there. To be safe. To be protected. But he knew, looking her in the eye, that nothing he did or said would prevent her from doing what she needed to.

Sighing, he turned, his eyes gazing down the alley way that ran by the side of the building, the bins that clung to wall empty and almost lonely, the lack of rubbish making seem like a completely different place.

"At least let me go first."

A chaste kiss on the lips, and then she pushed him gently in front of her, letting him take point.

His skin tingled, his angelic blood enhancing his senses far beyond mortal means as he advanced quickly and quietly, his feet making inaudible noises as the door drew near. 

Taking a stele out of his pocket, he drew a rune of Silence on the door, ensuring it wouldn't make any noise when it swung open, as it did when the rune of Opening burned itself into the lock. He whispered a few words in Latin, just to check that there was nothing else protecting the door. The magic came back with a resounding emptiness. 

Creeping in, the unlikely duo moved forward, keeping low as the demonic presence got stronger and stronger. Past the vast spacious kitchen, eerily quiet, until the main room of the restaurant emerged from the gloom, illuminated, by a single flickering light. 

Nate was there, huddled against the far wall, demons looming over him, prodding at him with their various claws, talons, snarling at them with their teeth, hissing in languages that should have never been spoken on earth. Cuts and bruises marred his face and body, his school uniform torn, his school bag nowhere to be seen. 

His breath hitched as he took in air, clearly trying to fight against his urge to react normally, to scream and to cower in fear from the unnatural beasts that loomed over him. 

Yet even his resolution could not stop him from crying out as one of them dug a talon into his arm, dragging it down so that his dark skin split in two, blood flowing out, the demons hissing and laughing amongst themselves, enthralled by his fear, feeding off his pain and misery. 

Jonathon's had gripped tightly around the adamas sword he was holding. It had already been named, and he spoke the name with a tone so fearsomely cold that even Asmodeus would've raised an eyebrow.

"Castiel."

The sword lit up, the inferno of holy light piercing through the darkness, drowning out the weak light from above, bringing the room into sharp focus, as he stood up straight, Alyssa standing next to him with a look a fury on his face that matched his own.

The demons turned around and roared at them, sounding a battle cry that mixed with their own, as the two sides charged at each other, ready to tear each other to shreds.


	39. Two Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life never works out the way you want it to, does it now?

Castiel swished round, carving through one demon as if it were still passing through the air, as Jonathon drew his shorter blade from a sheath on his hip, while Alyssa wielded the her sword with both hands, the metal singing as she spun and turned faster than the human eye could register, her rage at her friend's predicament making her all the more deadly. 

Demons howled and sprang, teeth bared, claws slashing, tails whipping, wings flapping, a heaving flood of rancid, aggressive flesh with evil intent, ready to tear the two of them to shreds.

They didn't stand a chance.

Facing two of the best warriors in the Shadow World was already a disadvantage to them. The fact that both of them were majorly pissed off made their chances of survival nearly impossible. 

Alyssa jumped up on the a table, and sprang up again, flying over the demons, the runes in her sword glowing harshly as she diced and cleaved through the demons, while Jonathon stayed on the ground, wielding the two blades with such ease that he motions seemed be one continuous long movement rather than individual ones. 

Ichor spilled, splashing in hissing patches onto the floor, acrid fumes rising as the poison destroyed the matter beneath it, until the dead bodies that they had come from collapsed on the floor atop them, their final death rattles gurgling snarls as they tried to get back up and devour the succulent flesh that they were allowed to touch, to tear, to destroy.

But the faerie and the Nephilim would not be denied. 

Letting their instincts do the work, the two of them blazed their way through the demon horde, the two of them only exhilarated by the sheer number of enemies that came their way, knowing that they were going to win. It wasn't arrogance, just a simple fact of the matter. 

By this time Alyssa had reached Nate, and was coldly destroying all the demons who even twitched in their direction, while Jonathon cleaned up those that were still paying attention to him. The light from their weapons glowed wickedly, as they became true extension of their bodies, destroying the beasts, and banishing them back to whatever godforsaken dimension they came from. 

Jonathon swung one way, Alyssa swung the other, and the final demon fell to three uneven pieces, dissolving into nothingness as the weapons became still in the air, the two of them staring at each other, mirror images that abruptly changed as they lowered their blades, taking in deep breaths to replace the oxygen that their bloodstreams lacked.

Only the two of them seemed to exist for that brief moment, connecting them, and bonding them more deeply than they had ever been before.

The spell broke in an instant, the two of them moving over to their friend, who was watching the two of them, his eyes wider than they had been before. 

"Jonathon? Is that you?" Nate said, pushing himself up, grimacing with the effort as his friends dropped their knees beside him. 

"Yeah," he replied, placing his sword back in its sheath, looking critically over his friend's condition. Cuts, bruises, loads of blood, ripped clothing, but nothing that was life threatening or immediately dangerous. 

"Here," Alyssa said rummaging around in her pocket, and pulling out a small bottle, full of a thin, silver-lilac liquid that glowed brightly enough to cast an eerie glow over the whole room. "Drink this. It'll kill any infection that the demon passed onto you."

He stared at face in front of him, the orichalcum skin framed by midnight blue-black hair, the silver, white and green eyes looking at him intently, the cheekbones, jaw line and planes to his face so familiar. He would've worked it out faster had he been uninjured and not so desperately famished. 

"Alyssa?" 

"Yep. Now drink this, and let's get out of here. We're not sure what's going on, but we'll explain all of this on the way home."

He took the bottle from her, a smile on his face in spite of the pain that he felt, and swallowed the contents in one mouthful, not reacting at all to the taste, as they pulled him to his feet, Jonathon on one side, Alyssa on the other. They redrew their weapons as they walked towards the door post haste, all senses on high alert as they approached the door. 

"Going somewhere?"

The power that flowed over them was incredible. Malevolent, sinister, with just a hint of the humanity that it stemmed from. 

Jonathon trembled, not wanting to, but completely unable to help himself. The voice was bad enough. He knew cadence, the tone and the register so well. It spelt trouble.

But the other one who he could merely sense was the one who made him show momentary lapse in his usually impeccable control.

The two of them together was something out a nightmare that Asmodeus himself could not a dreamt up even if he had tried.

Nothing good was going to come of this. 

"Alyssa, take Nate and go."

Her eyes literally flared with rage at the very suggestion, the whispered command nothing short of a death sentence to her, as they continued to rush only, hearing the casual footsteps of two other people padding behind him.

"Don't even-"

"These two aren't here for you. There's no way either of them even remotely interested in you. In fact, they'll probably just kill you if you stay. My ex lover and my mother are not known for their mercy, kindness or their appreciation of anything that doesn't fit precisely into their carefully laid plans. Neither of you will live. And if you do, it'll only be to control me. Get him out of here. He has no place in this world."

"Jonathon-"

"I know I promised. And I'm sorry I have to break it. Nate, support yourself."

With that he ducked out from under Nate's arm, the other blade appearing in his hand in a flash, as he looked at the horrors behind him. 

A faerie knight, tall, menacing and brutal looking, with something that looked like a human. But it clearly wasn't as Castiel glowed even more brightly in its presence, the holy blade responding the excessive demonic energy that tainted the air. 

Behind them stood their mistresses. 

The Seelie Queen, beautiful as ever, red and blue clashing like the lava and water, the pale visage drawing the colour out of the both of them, while her companion had eyes the colour of pitch, with hair to match, her skin even paler than her companion's .

Matching smiles that would've stopped a bull shark in its tracks, and a posture that spoke of power, grace and strength. The poise of royalty. The stance and bearing of a queen.

"Knight, stop," the Seelie Queen commanded, her voice powerful and regal. "Bring that boy back here."

Alyssa ignored her, and continued to move Nate towards the door. 

"Knight, your Queen commands you to stop!"

"I didn't think much of you before you were Queen. And I still don't think much of you now. A vindictive, petty, spiteful thing. Nothing's changed, I see."

"How dare you address me in that manner! I am your Queen-"

"Well, then do me a favour and shut the hell up, your Highness!" she snapped back. 

"Kill them!" the Seelie Queen screamed, her rage marring her pretty features, while Lilith simply rolled her eyes, looking at her son with expression that he could ready perfectly. 

It was almost as if she was saying I told you so.

The faerie knight moved forward his dark purple hair and grey eyes looking darker than they should in the distinct lack of light. His blade and Jonathon's met halfway, the clang of the two materials meeting loud and vibrating. And then he was moving in the other direction intercepting the demon who was moving his friend's direction, a short sword that looked like it was made of demon metal hissing as it met Castiel.

Then the two of them came at him together, the demon trying to get past him, the faerie trying to distract him. None of that mattered though. 

His training took over completely, instantaneously, effortlessly, his two blades weaving a web of pure violence around him, attacking and defending with grace that could only have been imparted by a teacher of great skill. 

Sparks flew, and faces contorted as they fought, the clang of the blades the only sound that rang through the room as time went on. His two enemies were fast, but the faerie was far more skilled than the demon. He wielded his sword like Alyssa did, though not as skilfully, but with a more aggressive and vicious edge to his swordsmanship. The demon was far less skilled, but his strength was nothing to be joked about. Every swing was powerful jolt to his arm, that he forced himself to respond to, block or avoid. 

He just had to let them get away. Alyssa and Nate. His girlfriend and his best friend. 

If anything happened to them... Anything at all-

Lilith watched her child with pride in her eyes, admiring what he was, and salivating over what he would become. The Seelie Queen watched impartially, wanting it to be over, so that the fun part could begin. 

Jonathon began to tire, the effort of combating two completely different foes, and having to constantly adapt to them exhausting him. 

"Enough." The Seelie Queen's voice sounded from somewhere. "Although this is entertaining, enough."

"True. Stand aside."

And then the knight and demon were gone, and a streak of silver lashed through the air, whipping him backward before he crashed into the floor. 

"Enough, my son. It is time for you to return to me. To return to your true self."

He heard her footsteps tap the ground on the way to him, her clothes rustling quietly, the clack, clack, clack of her heels eerie and intimidating. 

Jonathon knew what he had to do. 

Tensing his impressive stomach muscles, he attempted to flip up onto his feet - only fly upward, gripped by some unseen power to smash into the ceiling hard, his head bouncing off of it, the impact almost giving him whiplash. Jonathon's weapons were ripped from his grasp by the sheer force of the assault, clattering to the ground as he remained suspended, in midair.

"Are you going to come quietly?"

Ignoring her, he began to whisper quietly, his fingers flickering slightly as he prepared to burn the entire place down with demon fire.

"Now, now, none of that."

And then he was shooting downward, crashing into the floor with sickening thump, as everything went black.

......................................................................................

Jonathon jolted awake, dragged back into the world of the living by hooks that dug into his deep into his consciousness, his imposed sleep forcibly interrupted. 

He didn't even bother trying to make any grandiose movements, knowing that there was no way on earth they wouldn't have him restrained. Instead, he just shifted slightly his chair from side to side, the rattle sound confirming that he was, as he expected, bound in chains. Ropes would be too risky. The scent of enchantment hung around him, and even as tried to summon the little magic he could work, it fizzled out, damped by the energies that spun invisibly around him. 

There was also a little stabbing pain in his arm. Two stabbing pains actually, one in each arm. He also felt unusually dizzy, but it wasn't from the spell. It was an particular dizziness, a light-headedness that he knew - 

Fear struck him like a sledgehammer to the gut, his vision instantly clearing as adrenaline surged through his body, his cold logic dissolving in the presence of the one thing he feared the most. His muscles strained against the chains, veins and arteries bulging as life force blasted through them.

"Do not struggle, my child." A hand caressed his head. "It will all be over soon - and your true self, your original self, will be restored."

"He doesn't seen too keen on the idea," said the Seelie Queen, watching from a chair in amusement, her legs crossed, hands resting daintily on her knee. "Don't you agree, Vire?"

Vire made a noncommittal noise, barely looking in his direction, continuing to polish his sword instead. 

"I'm sure he's not," the demon - Eidolon, he assumed. "But it doesn't matter. Jonathon has no choice in the matter."

"Do not refer to him as Jonathon. That is his angel name. His chosen name is Sebastian. Refer to him as such."

"Mistress."

Jonathon opened his mouth to make a comment - and found he couldn't even speak. 

Instead he watched as the blood drained out of his body, down the IV into the a large container that the Eidolon was eying eagerly. The other IV was empty. 

But Lilith was holding the other end close to her arm, the needle ready to pierce her skin. 

"I was considering siphoning off my blood earlier on, and storing it for you. But I thought that it would be better fresh."

"Isn't that more likely to kill him? It is more potent than stored blood," Vire stated blandly, still polishing his sword.

"He is my son. He will survive."

"I hope so," the Seelie Queen added. "He is essential to our plans."

Lilith moved in front of him. Jonathon wanted to scream, wanted fight back, wanted someone to rescue him from his worst nightmare. His mind flipped over and over, at twice the speed of normal thought, as the warrior, the frightened human, his desire for a normal life and most of all, his fear of losing them - AlyssaandNate - and his love for them, fought for dominance, confusing him, hurting him, as the demon pierced her, skin the black blood moving with a mind of its own, trickling towards his vein, ready to go straight to his heart. 

Jonathon felt the tears well up, but he wouldn't let them fall. He couldn't. That was the one victory he had left, the one move he had left to play.

He had time for a few last thoughts as the dark liquid reached the end of the IV, squeezing itself into the needle.

Their faces swam into her head. Nate. His dark skin, his plaited hair. Easy smile, friendly, open, lovable. His best friend. Alyssa. Orichalcum hair, silver eyes, her long hair, the colour of peacock feathers in shadows. Abrasive, loyal, hilarious, beautiful inside and out. So many dimensions to her personality.

He didn't want to lose all of that. He didn't want to lose his first friend. His first love-

Then he was on fire again.


	40. Disturbia

It was a different fire this time. The last time he'd even had something comparable to this, it had been the surging, raging fury of heaven, the purity of a cleansing, the golden and red flames destroying the blood in his veins. 

This time, it was the fires of hell. Dark flames searing his veins, as the demon blood mixed with his angel blood, flowing back towards his heart. The darkness stabbed into his chest, the agony of it making him throw his head back in a silent scream, still unable to speak or articulate anything at all, the alkaline substance hissing through his entire body as his heart began to pump faster, fuelled by adrenaline and pain.

Out of the corner of his eyes, his saw the darkness rise beneath veins and arteries, bulging as if they were trying to burst out, to split and pour his life force out onto the ground. His blood had become molten lead, trying to consume him from the inside, scorching him with a ferocity that was animalistic in nature, tearing and clawing at him as it coursed everywhere, every blood vessel bulging, the blood in his body darkening as they mixed together, fusing into something unique once more.

"Is there any chance that he will not accept the blood?" The Seelie Queen sounded mildly amused.

"I very much doubt it. He was fed demon blood from a young age - it altered his very genetic makeup. He is Shadowhunter and demon together - not the first of his kind, but the first that came of me."

"The most powerful?"

"The other that I know of had different powers. Together, they would created the most perfectly angelic-demonic hybrids - and the fact that they both have demon blood would preserve both of their unique abilities. I will have to look into that. That is a brilliant idea."

He only heard this through the silent howl he gave out, through the supernova that blazed and exploded in his brain. Jonathon could feel it spreading through him, and although it hurt, it was clear that his body wasn't rejecting it. At all.

"Now that I know he's not going to die, let's increase the flow shall we?"

The pain intensified exponentially, as the he felt the black blood of Lilith swirl into his veins like a torrent, his body a storm drain for what she was pumping in.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, the pain far beyond his imagination, everything going white, and then thankfully, finally, black.

.................................................................................

The difference was clear as he woke up.

Everything and everywhere on his body throbbing, a pulsing feeling that wasn't painful, but wasn't comfortable either. 

His entire frame flexed in his restraints his body adjusted to the changes that were going on within him, his cells reaccepting and reabsorbing the darkness that settled so easily in his body. The initial reaction had been violent, the angel and demon reacting violently to each other. But now his body remembered, accepting and absorbing the part of him that one side of him so wanted to forget. It wasn't pleasant - in fact, it was particularly unpleasant.

But he didn't care.

The world looked different. The world felt different. The world was different.

He could feel the strength in his muscles, far beyond what he had felt previously, stronger, even possibly than he was before, definitely more than Jonathon. More than Sebastian, possibly. He'd have to test it out. 

His eyesight was sharper, and even as they opened the blurry became focused in but a few seconds. Every detail sharpened, everything simply more, the shadows he could not see through before seeming to part right before his eyes, the hidden revealed to him in a blaze of colour, the already bright areas standing out like beacons. 

He could smell sweat, his own sweat from all the thrashing around he had done earlier, the intriguing smell of demons, the earthy, intoxicating smell of faeries, traces of Nate from earlier and honey and cinnamon from Alyssa. The scent of long eaten food, overpowered by, and mixing with the odd smells that were solely present at a building site.

The air touched his skin, the usually insubstantial feeling heightened somehow, the chains especially cold against his skin, the chair harder than it should be. He opened his mouth, the taste buds on his tongue picking up the tiny particles in the air. Various tastes assaulted his mouth; he savoured each one, mulling over them, and then discarding them without a second thought, the entire process a odd, little game for him.

But it was the hearing that really got him going. Closing his eyes, he let his hearing completely take over.

Every creak of the chair. Every rattle of the chain. The cars rumbling past. The hum of the lights. The bodies of the four people that were in the building with him. The blood the flowed through their bodies, the way that air entered and left their forms, the rustling of their clothing as they moved. Their voices - two female, two male - were all distinct, different pitches, different cadence, different enunciation. Surprisingly, he wasn't particularly interested in what they were saying.

He remembered what had happened. He remembered being Jonathon. He remembered being Sebastian as well, the two sets of memories vivid and separate in his mind, blurring together fusing together, bombarding him with information, invoking emotions that whoever he had been before remembered. Faces danced in and out of his head, his eyes no longer seeing what was before him, glimpsing into the past. His past. And yet it was not his. 

He felt fundamentally different. At least he thought he did.

This certainly wasn't the feeling of Jonathon. Neither was it the feeling of Sebastian. 

It was something new, something different, something- He wasn't sure. Was it different?

He didn't want to put a name on it yet. Didn't feel the need to.

How had he ended up here anyway?

That was it. The fight, Lilith's attack, his first blackout, waking up, the IV, the pain-

And then waking up again.

The others were on the other side of the room, chatting and eating things that varied from normal to what would be considered abnormal by some. He could smell it But it didn't bother him either way. 

Then it came. Surging back from wherever it had remained hidden in his mind, as the black blood seeped into his entire body, infusing him with demonic energy, the angelic force that was the other half of him trying to beat back and outshine the darkness that was restoring parts of him that his angelic self had forgotten, and almost sealed away. 

The rage-filled darkness that had been taught to him as a child, the poisoned filled shadows that had haunted his most recent self. The blood lust of demon, ready to burn, tear and shred the very fabric of reality if it were possible. 

And his mother, his sire, his Queen, was over there with some insects, chatting with them, rather than paying any attention to him. He opened his mouth to call out to them, to interrupt them, to take his rightful, dutiful place at her side-

Alyssa. Nate. Alyssa. Nate. Alyssa. Nate. Alyssa. Nate.

The two names frozen his vocal cords, as the light and hope they had bought him rose with a furious vengeance to collide violently with his darker side. His friends. School. Exams. Homework. Outings. Everything normal people got to do. 

Memories of him and Nate on the various playing fielding, throwing, kicking, running, dodging, laughing, eating-

Alyssa, intertwined with him. Fighting him. Kissing him. Looking into his eyes, and seeing his face reflecting in the silver and white, display such a wide range of emotions that he knew instinctively. The tenderness he felt for her. The happiness that possessed him any time she was nearby. The way his eyes danced with hers. 

His first love. 

Two opposing sides. Dynasties, warring with his mind, the two sides of his personality clashing, Sebastian returning to body that he had known for so long, whilst Jonathon tried to keep him out, to retain the control and the peace that had created the life that he held dear. 

His body moved involuntarily in response to the clashing titans, each one struggling for release. The chains rattled, the chair creaking against the sheer force he exerted against it. 

He needed to get out- 

No, he didn't. He belonged -

Not here. Home. With his friends and girlfriend-

Who wouldn't like what he had become. Better to stay here, with his mother-

That had left him with crazed sociopath, who had succeeded in turning him into a psychopath-

Who had been one of the most successful warriors of his time-

Amongst all of this, only one thing remained constant. 

He simply did not want to be here. He couldn't make a decision about who he wanted to be, who he was going to be. But one thing was clear. Absolutely crystal clear. 

It was time to get out of this chair.

The words sprang to his lips in an instant, the magic surging up within him once more, heightened and more potent than ever. He whispered the words, the chains spring off him in a flash, the binding spells that surrounded him not nearly strong enough for his new self.

The chains fell away, clanging to the ground in a long stream, every link another gong in the room, announcing the freedom of someone who had leapfrogged the totem pole of power in the surrounding area by a degree that no-one could quite comprehend.

As they all sprang to their feet, chairs flying backward, weapons being drawn, he had already summoned his weapons, and the flew through the air, flipping end over end, attaching themselves to him, the belt wrapping round him, the blades sliding into their sheathes, silently, smoothly, elegantly.

He still had his eyes closed.

"Restrain him!" the Seelie Queen cried, leaping to her feet. 

"I'm sure he's just flexing his muscles," Lilith said languidly. "Getting reacquainted with the way he used to be, with the power he's been restored to. Sebastian? How are you, my son?"

But Vire was already bounding across the room, ready to attack, his sword shimmering out of his sheath, a fragment of a metallic spider web out of that had just drifted into the light. 

But his appeared even faster, only Lilith truly able to comprehend the sheer swiftness of the motion. 

He heard it coming. He heard the approach, felt the disturbance in the air, and knew where to strike, and exactly what he was going to do. 

It smashed into his opponent's sword, sending it flying away while his open hand slammed into the faerie's chest, sending him sliding backing, the purple haired warrior soaring through the hair, his feet tangling as he landed, dropping unceremoniously to the floor in a heap.

"Get up, Vire. Get up," the Seelie Queen hissed, as her champion struggled to rise to his feet, taken aback by the sudden attack, as well as the force behind it. 

"Sebastian. These are our allies. We will be working with them to-"

"I'm not Sebastian."

The words were the first he had uttered since his transformation. They rang true in his ears, a beautiful sound for some reason, wonderful words that one part of him loved, and the other... grudgingly accepted.

"Impossible." The Queen of Demons rose to her feet, her eyes narrowing, her hands rising. "You cannot be Jonathon."

"I don't know who I am."

"I'm sorry," the Eidolon replied, rising to his feet. "If you aren't Sebastian, and you aren't Jonathon, then who are you?"

He reopened his eyes, and the entire group looked at him in mixture of shock and disbelief. 

"What is this?" The Seelie Queen took a step back. "Why are his eyes like that? Lilith, what have you done? You assured me that this would work?"

"I do not know," she replied, as she flexed her fingers, bringing her considerable magic to bear, ready to contain what could possibly be a mistake.

But he was long ready for that possibility. 

With a burst of motion that surprised even him, he bounded across the room, his feet barely touching the ground, as he felt the air moving, shifting as Lilith's magic prepared to restrain him.

He barrelled away from the assembled motley crew, crossing his arms in front of his head as he passed through the glass at the front of the restaurant, an outward explosion of glass that sounded and looked as if someone had broken a crystal bell, the pealing toll reverberating through all of their ears. 

Rolling head over heels in midair, he landed on his feet, lightly, elegantly, easily. He temporarily marvelled at this new skill before - until he heard the scuffling thud of footsteps behind him, the voices calling out, wanting him to do a thousand things that he wasn't interested in.

Where was he going? 

What was he doing?

He could go back in there, back to those people he had just left-

No. Nate and Alyssa. Alyssa and Nate. 

He took off running, his legs moving faster than he thought possible, the blood surging through him singing - both demon and angel, the two opposing sides in a unique harmony that could only be found in him. 

Together, they sang, and beautiful, harmonious melody, that had elements dark discordance in it, making it all the more wonderful. 

Into the night he fled, not looking back for a second. 

..................................................................................................

"Where has he gone?" The flame haired monarch's usually impassive, contemptuous expression was replaced by a vicious, ever so slightly worried one that was closer to her true personality. "What was that? You promised me-"

The demon who had been the wife of Adam turned to her fellow ruler, and for a second, the Seelie Queen quailed, remembering who and what she was addressing. The terrible darkness that came from Lilith was overwhelming, crushing calling to a darker part of nature while still terrifying her.

Then it was gone, replaced with a conciliatory smile. 

"Do not worry. I am sure he is just adapting. He will return to us."

"And if he does not?" Vire rumbled.

"Never fear. He cannot summon help. The plan will still move along. And if he will not come voluntarily, he will be forced to come."

"How do you know he will come?" the other Queen hissed.

"How can he not? He will either come because he wants to join in - or come because he wants to stop us. Either way, he will be there," the Lady of Edom smiled, a genuinely happy smile that was one of the most terrifying expression she could make.


	41. Who?

The eldest Morgenstern bounded away, seeming to drift over the ground, hidden by a charm that would fool technology and human sight alike.

Streetlamps lengthened as he dashed past them, the headlights of cars no longer blinding, even though his eyes were more attuned than ever before. The night was now as clear as day, the lights that came from the city and little moonlight that filtered down from the heavens. He saw everything in detail, the world suddenly enhanced and more real than it had been in any of his previous memories.

The angel and demon in his body had melded together in an alliance that suited his physical needs perfectly. He drew power from both, his body perfectly in tune, better than ever before. He felt like he had been reborn, as if he had just witnessed the birth of a new star - except he was the star. He still had limits, of course. He was only mortal. But compared to how he had felt a few minutes before, he was limitless. 

The wind tore at his face, making his eyes water, snatching his breath away as he dashed - to where he didn't know. Roads were no obstacle to him. He leapt over moving cars, bounced off of walls, dodged around people at lightning speed, his agility, strength and speed just within his control.

His thoughts wondered as he continued. 

Jonathon and Sebastian. The two versions of himself were both contained in this third incarnation, the aspects that they shared aligning themselves with each other, strengthening each other, even celebrating each other, while the differences between them savaged each other, twisting storms within him that grew stronger and stronger with each passing moment, neither willing to back down for a moment. Sebastian wanted his old life back, before his sister had burnt away all the demonic influence that had held sway over him for his entire life. Jonathon wanted things to continue as they had for the last half a year. 

Neither of them wanted to compromise. Neither would let up for a second. 

This third version of him didn't know which way to turn. 

Before he knew it, he was at the a train station. He knew which one, but it simply didn't register as important. Still undetectable, he cleared the barrier with ease, slowing down as he ambled onto the Tube, instinctively moving rather than consciously thinking. No-one saw him, and so he stood there leaning against the glass. If they could've seen him, they would've said that he didn't have a care in the world. 

They would have also recoiled from his eyes. 

Doors opened with their mechanical whoosh , and he stepped off, moving up the escalators, somehow not bumping into anybody as he ascended. Exiting the station, he walked briskly, eventually ending up running once more, soaring down the street as if he had angel wings on his back. 

The night was beautiful, serene, calm, and average normal night in his area, full of all the usual noises. He heard more now, but they were still the average sounds that were part of the night landscape. 

He heard them before he saw them, recognising the voices that were so familiar to him. Jonathon surged upward with happiness, wanting to run over to them, while Sebastian wanted to hurtle back to where they had come from.

But his feet drew him onward, right to the path that led through a natural bouquet of flowers, the mingled scent of them almost overwhelming him with his new senses. The light in the front room was on, and through the glass and curtains, he could hear them talking. Two people. Two people that he knew. Two people Jonathon loved. Two insignificant pawns that Sebastian didn't care about. 

He was still hovering in between these two thoughts as he rang the doorbell, the sound ringing in his ears, when Alyssa came to the door, sword raised, the blade gleaming in the light. 

"Jona-" The word died in her throat, swallowed by her as eyes widened slightly, but she did not pull away from him. 

"Alyssa." He didn't know what to say next. It was strange. Jonathon was screaming suggestions, drowning out Sebastian, who was still suggesting that he went back, went back to Lilith, back to whatever strange, malignant plan she had concocted, that seemed strangely appealing to him. The thought of destruction and death (which were certain to be involved) sounded like fun.

"She put the demon blood back in you, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

She got straight to the point as usual. 

"So are Sebastian? Or are you still Jonathon? Did Lilith send you back here?"

"To the first two - honestly, I don't know. The third one? No. I just - felt I had to be here. How's Nate?" 

"He's alright. He's worried about you though."

"Typical Nate." He resisted the urges running through his body. Jonathon wanted to sweep her into his arms and hold onto her for dear life. Sebastian wanted to tear her clothes off and take her right there and then.

"May I come in? I don't know what I look like, but I promise that I won't hurt you or Nate."

She looked at him for a while, as if she staring into his very soul.

Then she stepped aside, and ushered him in with an elegant wave of her hand. 

He was in and by Nate's side in what seemed to be a snap of a magician's fingers, making him start.

He looked worse in the light, his new eyesight granting him a far better perspective on what had been done to his friend. 

Cuts, bruises, the haggard look on his face, and yet he could see that his friend had not been broken. Alyssa had bandaged him up, and used some faerie remedies on him, but he was still clearly in pain and shaken as the natural magic did its work.

"Jon! You're alright."

"Don't worry about me. How are you? You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm alright. Although discovering that your best friend is a faerie and that your other closest companion is actually part angel is quite a lot to take in for one day."

He then looked curiously at him, an element of horror entering his face as well. "Jon. What's wrong with your eyes?"

"There's something wrong with my eyes?"

Nate pointed him to the nearest reflective surface, a silver dish on the table. 

He went over to it, and simply looked down into it, wondering what he would see. Jonathon knew it wasn't the green eyes that he had grown used to, while Sebastian hoped that they were blacker than the depths of space.

Neither of them had expected this. 

Jonathon's green was more vivid than ever. Brilliant, almost luminous, set into sclera that were the same colour as Lilith's blood. His pupils were at their minimal maximising the green in his eyes.

"That explains a lot."

"What do you mean?" Nate asked. 

"They said that there was something wrong with my eyes. But I didn't check. Didn't think to, to be honest."

"So what are they meant to look like?"

"After my demon blood infusion, they should look like black holes. I don't know why..."

"Jonathon."

His turn was so swift, so preternatural that he saw his friend recoil slightly. Alyssa, on the other hand, seemed at ease. She sat on one of the chairs, sipping a drink, her sword within easy reach of her hand. Even though she appeared to be at rest, he knew it would take only a moment for her to be fully capable of murdering him. 

If she could. 

"Can you two explain everything to me? My head's full of questions, but no answers."

"Shouldn't you be going home to your parents?" Alyssa said. "They're really worried about you."

"I know, and I know this is selfish. Horribly, terribly selfish. But I need to know. About why I was kidnapped in the first place. Why those... demons looked scared when they mentioned you, Jon. Why that woman with snake in her eye sockets calls you her only true child."

"But most importantly, who the two of you really are. You owe me that much at least."

He looked at them expectantly, a slight accusation on his face, somehow managing to convey that this would all be well if he only understood what was going on.

"You sure you want to know?" Alyssa queried. "Our world is complicated. And dangerous."

"As I just found out," Nate replied wryly, shifting slightly, and wincing in pain from his injuries.

"Let me help with that." Before either of them could say anything, he was back by his friend's side, summoning more magic than he thought possible, and pouring it into his friend, speeding up the healing process more than even he thought possible. 

He had suspected that Lilith had given him more demon blood than he had had previously had had before. The fact that it was fresh from her veins as well, rather than fed to him through his mother's placenta, meant that it was completely undiluted, giving him far more power than he had access to before. 

It also meant he was far more demonic than before. He felt it sinking in, the chaotic whirl that had been his world as Sebastian returning with a vengeance. Things seemed to matter less, his mind now categorising things more coldly, more harshly. 

But even so, it was different this time round. So very different. 

"Jon?"

He'd have to work it out later. Right now, he had some talking to do. A lot of talking, actually.

"Right then. Get ready for what will probably be the strangest story you'll ever hear."

"After what I've seen today, I don't think anything will be that strange."

"Trust me." Alyssa didn't have a trace of humour in her voice. "Even by our standards, this one is strange."

.....................................................................................................

Nate looked between his two friends. Had anyone else told him the tale they told him, even in spite of all that he'd just experienced, he'd have been sceptical of parts of it. Yet these were his two best friends. Alyssa, who he had known for so long, and who had always been so direct and honest with him - in part because it was her personality, the other half being that fact that she couldn't lie. Jonathon, who had always seemed... more. More than human, certainly not an ordinary athlete, and certainly acting years older than he was. 

It all made sense now.

"I always knew there was something strange about the two of you. Probably a difficult childhood, or something like that. Didn't imagine that it was something this vast. Or undercover."

"The Shadow World is good at remaining hidden," Alyssa said. "It was harder back in the old days when people knew about us, and actively sought out faeries, tried to summon angels and demons, and actively practised and believed in magic. Fortunately, those times are long gone, and we are little more than folklore and legend to most people."

"But you..." Nate looked as his friend, with his blonde hair and strange eyes. "I really don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It's all old history."

"That had nothing to do with you. That wasn't your fault. Yet you still carry the blame for it."

A shrug. "I'm official dead. My name will be hated and feared for generations, but at least the Clave aren't looking in my direction anymore. I was honestly done with the Shadow World."

"Once you're in the Shadow World, you're never done with it," Alyssa said flatly. "But having the Seelie Queen and Lilith here is the definition of the word disaster. Whatever they're planning, and whatever they need you for, I actually dread to imagine."

"Are the two of them really that bad?" Nate asked.

Jonathon - he felt like Jonathon for the moment - got there first.

"The Seelie Queen is bad enough by herself. Manipulative, vicious, vindictive, with a long memory and enough power and influence to rule the Seelie Court. There are even those who say she more suitably for ruling the Unseelie Court. But she's predictable enough. Lilith on the other hand..."

"The Lilith? As in Adam's first wife?"

"Cursed to not have any children because she refused to be second best," Alyssa scoffed. "Sounds fair to me. And then look at what the first man and woman supposedly got themselves into." 

"Either way, my demon mother is one of the most feared Greater Demons. Even the fallen angels don't always want to handle her. She's formidable, absurdly intelligent, and completely accustomed to getting her own way by any means necessary. She commands armies of demons who fear her as much as they revere and worship her, and her name is a curse in some parts of the world." 

"But what could they possibly be doing together?" Nate asked. "The Queen of the Seelie Court, and the Queen of Demons."

Jonathon looked between both of his friends, the green seeming to become brighter, the black seeming to become even more emptily inviting.

"I don't know. Whatever they're planning, I need to stop it. And fast. Because whatever it is will be destructive, and probably cost a lot people their lives."

"We're going to stop it." 

Alyssa was running fingers up and down the length of her sword, her expression cold and merciless. 

"They kidnapped my best friend - and hurt you. I don't care who they are. We are taking them down. And don't even think about trying to join in, Nate. I want you out of sight. These are not people to play around with."

"But what more could they do-"

Alyssa stared at him pointedly, and almost sadly.

"A lot more. A hell of a lot more."


	42. Truth

They were alone again. 

Alyssa and Jonathon. Together again. Warriors, rebels, renegades. 

He should've been happy. He should have been elated to be back with the person whom he cared for beyond all others.

Except for all the potential problems that were now nestling in between them.

There was Lilith and Seelie Queen. Problems that simply wouldn't go away without some considerable trouble. But they were issues to be addressed later, things that had solutions that would be difficult, but manageable. 

Here, however was an issue that he didn't feel that was going to be solved with ease.

Nate had gone home. They had walked him to his front door, their friend firing endless questions at them about the Shadow World, all about the magic, mystery and madness it contained. His curiosity seemed insatiable, his desire for answers overwhelming the fear that half of the mortals shoved into his position would have responded with. 

The reunion with his family had been something out of a film. Hugs and tears, laughter and questions, while Alyssa and he were cloaked in a spell, watching from the shadows, not wanting to get involved with the celebration, or be associated with their friend's disappearance or miraculous return, no matter how much one of them was responsible for it.

The walk back to her house was done in complete silence - and yet it was only partially uncomfortable. In some respects, it was awkward; and in others completely necessary. The two of them simply needed to think, to come up with arguments and counterarguments for the opinions that would soon be spilling out of them, anticipating and formulating what the other was going to say. 

Her street loomed ahead, and the front door opened at his whispered command. 

"Hot chocolate?" she asked him. 

"Please. I think I need it."

She went into the kitchen. He didn't follow. It wasn't that he didn't want to. 

He just wasn't sure that he should.

Sitting there was more painful than it should've been. Alyssa seemed so near, and yet so far. So distant from him. She might as well have been standing on the other side of the galaxy.

She returned a few minutes later, with hot chocolate that smelled like heaven. He could smell the cocoa mixed with the stove boiled full fat milk, the sugar, honey and the blend of spices that she added to it to enhance the flavour, a recipe she had learnt from of hers when she had visited the Caribbean. 

Placing the enormous, steaming mug in his hand, she sat down next to him. He couldn't help but shuffle away slightly. 

"What are you doing?"

He took a sip of his perfect hot chocolate, steeling himself for what he had to say.

Borrowing a page from Alyssa's book, he got straight to the point.

"Alyssa. I'm part demon now."

"You were always part demon. Since Lilith put her blood in you as a child, you'll always be part demon."

"You know what I mean. And I feel it, Alyssa. I seriously feel it. I'd almost forgotten how it felt - but I'm remembering quite well now."

She took a deep swig of the drink in front of her, and put it down firmly. 

"Don't even start, Jonathon."

Her voice sounded unusually dangerous, with a underlying tone that he hadn't heard from her before.

"You are not breaking up with me on the grounds that you're just a little more demonic than before."

He couldn't help but take another sip of his hot chocolate, the drink fortifying him before he replied. 

"Look, you might have heard of my former self Sebastian. But you never met him. You never fought him. You never were him."

"Your point being?"

"Alyssa. I don't know what's going to happen to me now. From what I can deduce, there's more demon blood in me than there was before. And it's not passing to me through my mother. It's pure, undiluted blood from a Greater Demon. Lilith. A human who became a demon."

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow, putting her hot chocolate down.

"So?" 

"I don't know whether I'm going to revert to how I was before-"

She slapped him, hard.

He recoiled, his head spinning. There was a lot of force behind that slap, and his face had actually moved to the side under the force of the blow, causing him to spill his hot chocolate all over her floor. 

"What the hell was that for?" he said, looking at her incredulously. "What did I do to deserve that?"

"Your ability to talk eloquent nonsense was irritating me."

"Alyssa stop messing around. I'm serious! I don't know-"

Another slap, this one the other way, hurting even more than the first one. 

He jumped up, getting angry.

"You can't just slap me because you don't agree with what I'm say!" 

Another slap came his way. He grabbed her wrist, preventing it from connecting, taking just a moment to marvel at how strong and fast he now was. His reflexes were phenomenal. 

"Alyssa-"

Her other hand swept round, and he caught it as well, the distraction allowing her to sweep a leg round, taking his legs out from under him. He dropped to the floor, as she used his grasp on her the unbalance him, pinning him down. 

He rolled her over, but she locked her legs around his stomach, and wrenched herself out of his grasp, jamming her forearm underneath his chin, the bone digging into his neck forcing his head backward. Shifting her weight once more, she put him on his back once again, her knees trying to dent his ribcage, still pressuring his windpipe relentlessly cutting of his oxygen with an effectiveness that was brutal and merciless. 

What the hell was this? 

He lurched from side to side, dislodging her with violently, and scrambling to his feet, as she rose to her and leapt at him. Lurching to one side, Alyssa sailed past, only to pivot round on one foot, and wrap an arm around his neck, throwing him back into the chair. His head snapped backward, slamming into sofa with enough force to actually hurt.

A wave of anger rose up within him, a dark, black anger that wanted to lash back with a terrible vengeance. Right then.

He leapt up, springing forward, admiring wryly that the only broken thing in the room was a mug. And maybe him.

Wrapping his arms around her, he forced her backward, pressing her up against the wall, pushing his forehead against hers to prevent her from head butting him, his legs pressed against her, preventing her from moving. She strained against him, but he had already been slightly stronger than her before. Now he was far, far stronger than she was. But that meant little to seasoned fighter. It was a mixture of strength, agility, speed, reflex, as well as instinct and intelligence that made a true fighter, a warrior who could win again and again.

He wasn't taking any risks.

"What the hell, Alyssa? What did I say? What did I do? What the fuck was that all about?"

Her silver eyes burned into his, glowing like the moon, as if she were Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Alyssa, I'm really not in the mood for anything but straight answers at the moment. I'm tired. I've just been filled with demon blood, found out that the Seelie Queen and Lilith are in town, and come the conclusion that my new life is officially at an end! So just be straight with me-"

"Why?"

"Why what? he roared, unable to maintain his calm any longer.

"Why is it at an end?"

"Is that even a question?"

"Why shouldn't it be?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but she jerked her head to one side, and kissed him, hard, and firmly. He pulled away, releasing her and backing off, holding his arms out in front of him protectively, more warding her off than keeping him safe.

"Jonathon. Stop being stupid."

"You have no idea what you're talking about-"

"Yes I do, actually. From the minute I saw you at the door, I knew what was going through your head. But I know this for a fact. You're not Sebastian. And unless you want to be him again, you never will be. And before you start to protest, I'll just explain. You still want some hot chocolate?"

Bewildered, and really nonplussed, he nodded slowly. 

"Take a seat. I'll bring you some more. I left some in a thermos - I'll just warm it up in the pan. Won't be a minute."

He did as he was told, his head still spinning from the blows, the conversation, and her claim that she couldn't possibly back up.

What did she know about Sebastian?

She soon returned with a new mug of steaming hot chocolate, and handed it to him, picking up her cooling hot chocolate, which was surprisingly still intact, ignoring his spilled one completely.

"Right. Like I was saying, you're never going to be Sebastian again. How can you be? Sebastian knew nothing of life in general - except for the bad parts. All he knew was hatred, manipulation, pain and death. There was nothing for him to really live for - so he specialised in what he knew - power and destruction. To follow in his father's footsteps, and continue the Morgenstern penchant for ruining people's lives."

She watched him closely as she said the next words.

"Then he died. The heavenly fire burnt all the demon blood out of him, which helped and exacerbated his tendency for wrongdoing." 

"And you came along. With all his memories, with all his emotions, with all his skills. But better still, to the average Nephilim, you are dead. A nightmare that has gone up in smoke, a curse broken and defeated. You had options when that Shadowhunter let you go. You could've gone straight the Seelie Court, and begun to plot with them to take down the Clave. You could've summoned Lilith again, and gotten an infusion of demon blood, and then worked exclusively with the demons. With no-one looking for you, there's myriads of things you could've done to hurt or harm people."

"But instead you come to London - and start going to school. You make friends, study, integrate into mortal society, and get into all the mess that normal teenagers get into. You even managed to find a girlfriend."

"Who is now lecturing me."

She glared at him. "Don't interrupt." She took another sip of hot chocolate. 

"You've been worried about Sebastian since you've got here. Every time you get angry, or even do something remotely wrong, you've been waxing lyrical about the how you're similar to him, how you might do something horribly evil soon in the future. But consider this. You're pumped full of demon blood. Newly high from a fresh infusion of demonic energy - and I just beat you up a bit. Nothing too hard, but enough to make you angry."

She smiled at him, her half smile beautiful and mocking at the same time. 

"You should've seen yourself, while we were fighting. It was actually sweet how worried you looked. As if you were going hulk out and cut me to pieces. Or throw me through a wall. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but you're not Sebastian. You never will be again. Sure, you might have some more destructive tendencies, and a shorter fuse, but I don't really think you're going to change all that much unless you believe you are. Very few people are born inherently evil - and I've met a couple. You're not one of them. I'm sure you would've been fine if you had grown up without Valentine. A little more merciless and cold than other people, possibly more aggressive, but nothing that self control couldn't handle. Stop demonising yourself."

She put down her drink, and turned his face towards her forcing him to look her directly in the eye.

"You know better now. You'll be what you want to be. You're Jonathon. My Jonathon."

She released him, and sipped her drink again, her point made.

"You really think so?"

Jonathon's voice was quiet, but hopeful. He knew he was harsh on himself, not completely able to forgive himself for things that weren't his fault. It was simply the way he was. But this brash, unwavering confidence he had in him was infectious and inspiring. As she had scolded him, he'd stopped having the to and fro in his head, and had stopped allowing the fight to happen, he now realised. The memories of Sebastian floated next to the memories of Jonathon, but he honed in on his newer memories, savouring them, enjoying drifting through them.

This was him. This was who he wanted to be. 

The destructive, demonic urges were always going to be with him. They'd been encouraged into him from an early age - but he didn't have to succumb to them, prescribe to them, or believe in them. He didn't have to act like a demon just because he had demon blood in him.

And it had taken one straight, talking beautiful faerie to do it.

Tentatively, he reached out and took the hot chocolate from her, placing it down before pulling her into his arms. 

She wrapped her arms around him, and held him tight, while Jonathon buried his face in her hair.

Alyssa didn't mind that her hair was getting silently soaked.

She was just happy that he was here with here.


	43. Research In Relative Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

Alyssa had invited him to spend the night at her house, and Jonathon had gratefully accepted, not at all wanting to spend the night alone. They went to bed together, her proximity calming him making him feel safe, accepted, comfortable. 

Happy. 

Content.

Holding her tight, he refused to let go of her for the entire night, even long after she fell asleep and he was still awake, staring into what should have been darkness. Eventually, he fell asleep, feeling truly at peace for the first time in a long time.

He was far too tired to dream, instead falling into the abyss of sleep so heavily that natural disasters would've rolled by and he wouldn't have even twitched.

Jonathon awoke on his back, Alyssa still in his arms. Her skin gleamed softly in the morning light, her hair fanning across the pillow as she had been flash frozen while floating on lake in a mountain crater. Her breathing was light and almost soundless, her warmth radiating out, an invisible blanket of protection that he relished in. 

He couldn't help pulling her towards him, and kissing her neck.

"Really? This early in the morning?" she whispered, turning over and kissing him, hard. 

"I just wanted to say good morning."

"Good morning, Jonathon."

"Morning, beautiful."

She rolled over and snuggled back into him. "Too early for compliments. Or flattery."

"I'm not going to school today."

"Probably a good idea. Lay low for a bit. They're clearly after you - 

"So naturally, I should stay out of the way."

"Yeah. You should. I probably won't be at school either. I'm going to go and talk to the few contacts I still have in the Shadow World. See what's going on. Listen to the rumours. If there are any."

"I don't think there will be," Jonathon replied thoughtfully. "The Seelie Queen only had one knight with her, and except for the one intelligent demon with the sword, the rest seemed to be of the more bestial variety. This is covert. Undercover. Which is astoundingly bad news. Scary, actually."

"Why?" Alyssa queried, the curiosity in her voice evident. "I'm not so worried about the Seelie Queen being underhand and sneaky. We faeries are not exactly the most open and vocal of people in anything, even though we can't lie. But what happens when demons go quiet? What happened the last time Lilith did something quietly? "

"I was raised from the dead. The Infernal Cup was made. The Dark War. Those kind of problems."

"I see. So what do you think she has planned this time?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. Absolutely no idea. I don't know what she's planning, and there are no signs and no clues as to what's actually going on. Except that she needs for something. Or she wouldn't have sought me out in the first place."

"Wouldn't she just want you back anyway? You are her first remotely human child, after all."

"She would. Despite her demonic ways, she does genuinely love me. Or at least care for me, in her own twisted way. But she's also a practical, careful being. Barrelling in just because she wants something isn't her style. Why not just send some demons to kidnap me in the middle of the night, or some faeries in the middle of the day? They could've spirited me away to her. Why would she come all the way to London from wherever she'd been hiding? There's definitely something going on that we don't know about."

"And whatever it is, it bodes ill," Alyssa finished. "Of course. When does anything secret in our world ever bode well?"

"Never. And this is a secret beyond secrets. Faeries and demons. The Seelie Queen's lack of entourage. Lilith with only one strong demon with her. I don't know what it all adds up to. I've combed my memories, thought over everything I've ever spoken to her about, everything I've heard, everything I've read. But there's nothing."

She kissed him again, and gently pulled out his grasp, heading towards the shower. 

"I'm going. Don't leave the house - unless you're under a glamour, and a strong one at that. A very, very strong one. And try to work out what they're going to do. You know more about the two of the than I ever will. If anyone can do it, it'll be you."

"How do have such faith in me?"

She shrugged. "I just do. There's just something about that I trust, Jonathon Morgenstern. Trust and love."

"I love you too, Alyssa."

"Of course," she said, waltzing away with just enough sway to make him slam a pillow over his face, and wish she was coming back to bed.

..............................................................................

Jonathon slept for a bit longer, enjoying every extra moment of sleep. He woke up to find her house empty, and strangely lonely for the lack of her. But he could manage it. 

He had work to do anyway. A lot of work.

But he would have to go home to do it. 

He took his shower there, and was careful to avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to see and spinning a glamour around himself, left her house silently, and with great caution, looking around all the while for signs that someone was watching or following him. But there was nothing as far as he could see. Nothing at all. 

The streets were normal, as normal as they could be. Cars rumbled past, buses continued on their way. He dodged around people, not allowing himself to even brush past them, his newly heightened senses and abilities allowing for what would have previously been near misses. 

Eventually, he arrived back at his home. It was exactly how he left it, curtains tightly drawn, sealed and barred to all outsiders. 

But he wasn't going in through the front door. 

He took a look down the street as he passed it, crossing to the other side. Although there was nothing blatant, and no indication that Lilith or the Seelie Queen knew where he lived, it wasn't a risk that he was willing to take. Especially when he didn't know exactly what was going on. 

Walking over to the house at the end of street, he crouched and jumped, straight up into the air, catching the edge of the grill that was nailed over a window, using it to propel himself upwards so that he suddenly standing on the roof, completely concealed from the rest of the world. A few light springs took him to the roof of his house, where he took his stele out of his pocket and drew a series of symbols onto a particular spot in the roof. 

The roof dissolved, enchanted to respond to that particular sequence of symbols drawn by a stele. Another one of his father's bolt holes, only able to opened by Nephilim, and yet only accessible by those who had abilities who exceed that of the average Shadowhunter. Namely, himself, Valentine and Jace.

The thought of them used to bother him, but strangely, he wasn't as affected by thinking of them. Valentine he still resented, but Jace... In another life, he suspected they would have been grudging friends, or possibly even good ones. 

He'd never know, but it wasn't the worst thought in the world.

Jonathon dropped through the slot, which would only remain open for twenty seconds at a time. Landing lightly on the floor, he kept crouched, not able to stand up to his full height without hitting his head. The light that filtered in through the tiles was more than enough for him to see, and soon the attic door was swing open. Once again, it was designed for only the three of the people who would ever step foot in this house. No ladder, just a direct drop. The landing rushed up to meet him, and then the attic door was banging shut, a sense of relief washing over him. 

There was nothing like being in his own house. His own castle. 

His home. 

Even though he knew he might not be completely safe here, he felt it. 

Right then. Research time. 

He went downstairs, not feeling the need to eat, sleep or even get changed, completely hell bent on discovering what exactly his mother might be up to. 

Down he went, to the shelves of books that he had kept from when he had emptied the house of Valentine's things. Pulling off the large book of demonology, a thick, heavy tome that dated back to the early twentieth century, Jonathon removed another couple of books - one about rituals and magic, and one specifically devoted to Lilith, and went to sit on at the kitchen table, taking a pad of paper to make notes on. 

A glass of water sat beside him as he lost himself in the texts, scribbling away with a fury and persistence that surprised even him. He didn't even notice the time pass as he worked, coming up with theories and discarding them with equal swiftness. Nothing was adding up, or making sense. What could Lilith and the Seelie Queen possibly want that required them to come here, instead of bringing him to them? What could possibly make a demon and faerie work together?

Most importantly, why would they work so hard to draw him out, only to let him go again?

When he put it all together, he came up to an enormous conclusion of nothing. Absolutely zilch. 

He went to the fridge, and absentmindedly made himself a stack of sandwiches, his mind still mulling over everything that had happened. Nothing stood out, or made him leapt up in the air with the imaginary light bulb flashing over his head. It was mystery that needed to be solved - but how could he solve it if he had no clues. 

Once again he sat down, and scribbled absentmindedly, eventually looking down at what he had written. Most of it were just random clusters of thoughts, but there was one word that stood out to him, a beacon on the page, making him stop and look again. 

Eidolon. 

The Eidolon. The demon who could change shape. That it was able to transform into other people.

Why was that bothering him so much?

This particular Eidolon did seem to have actual personality, and surprisingly, a sense of humour. But that wasn't what was bothering him. Demons sometimes did develop beyond their basic urges; it wasn't unusual. 

Then why was he returning to someone who wasn't potentially that important? 

Thoughts shot through his head like machine gun fire - and then paused as a wave of horror came crashing back over him. 

School. 

He felt around his pockets, finding that his phone was miraculously unharmed, a little scratched, but otherwise completely fine. 

In a matter of seconds, he was holding the phone by his ear, anxiously hoping that she would pick up.

"Jon?"

"Alyssa, you need to go to school."

"What?"

"Remember when the demon came to our school?"

"How could I forget?" He heard the smile beyond the phone. 

"I'm just wondering if there was more than one reason for him visiting the school."

"That was strange, actually. Very, very strange. They could've just waited outside the school, or across the road to catch you."

"Yeah. So do you mind going and taking a look around? I don't know what to look for, but then again, you've seen a lot more than I have. I might be shooting in the dark, but it's the only thing that I can think of."

"I will."

She ended the call, and Jonathon instantly began scrolling through his contacts again, and then putting the phone to his ear again.

"Jon?"

"You alright?"

"I'm fine. You and Alyssa patched me up really well." Nate definitely sounded better, but whether he actually had recovered was another matter entirely. 

"Look, Nate, I'm sorry."

"Jon. Stop apologising. From what you and Alyssa said, all the hoopla around you had died down. You were keeping away from the Shadow World. What more could you have done?"

He had a point. 

"I'll admit, I was initially angry about it. Wondered what I done to get mixed up in all of this. But the fact that you and Alyssa managed to get me out erased any doubts I had. I'm not the type to hold a grudge. And anyway, like I said, it's not like you intended for this to happen."

"I didn't. Just wanted you to know that."

"Yeah. Well, my parents are okay now. Smothering me, but I'll just have to let them, till they recover. Gave my statement to the police. Kidnappers who thought that I was someone else. Kept me hooded so that I didn't see their faces. Roughed me up a little. Basically, the actual story."

"The abridged, believable version."

"Yep. But we already discussed this? What's happened since I've gone?"

Jonathon filled in his friend quickly, ending with the call that he'd just made to Alyssa a few minutes ago.

"So you think there might be something going on at school?"

"Possibly. Which is why I want to ask you - did they say anything while they had you? Anything at all about the school? What they were planning?"

"Not that I recall. I'll see if I can remember anything, but nothing comes to mind. I'll run through what happened again, and see if I can recall anything."

"Thanks, Nate. And-"

"I swear if you're apologising again, I'm going to kill you. Demon blood or not."

"-get better soon, was all I was going to say."

"Had to get it in. Just in case."

Both of them laughed, a light, pleasant laughter between friends.

"I'll see you later, Jon."

"See you, Nate."

With that, the phone called ended. Jonathon looked back at the table, smiling in spite of all of the work he had to do, and all of the stress, worry and violence he knew was to come.

He still had both of them.

For some reason, in spite of all that had happened, he still had his best friend and his girlfriend.

He was satisfied.


	44. Ambitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lilith goes for something... she goes all the way.

The ringing of his doorbell was disturbing - both to his concentration and to his equilibrium. 

Wondering if his mother and his ex-lover had finally come to collect him, Jonathon went to the door, sword in hand, magic prepared to launch if he had to. The sensor that he had on him told him that it wasn't a demon at the door, which meant that it could be a faerie. 

But then the doorbell rang again, insistently, a fist pounding on the door when he didn't arrive fast enough. 

Okay. That was Alyssa. 

He swung the door open, the sword by his side, the magic quietening down as he dropped the spell. 

Alyssa swept past him, a blaze of orichalcum and midnight darkness in the light of the summer afternoon, a sports bag that clunked and clanged hanging over her shoulder, noises that were distinctively metaliic and strangely familiar. 

What was not familiar was the fact that Nate was right behind her.

"Alyssa-"

"We've got a serious problem."

She put the bag down as she stalked into the kitchen, and snatched one of the many sandwiches that were still piled high, full of delectable treats. She viciously tore into the bread, beef and mustard combination with relish, clearly hungry, swallowing the chunks of the food without elegance. Jonathon leaned the sword against the wall, and sat down opposite her, the tension in her body evident even without her earlier statement. Nate sat at the head of the table, ignoring Jonathon's surprised look, that swiftly became an angry one.

"Nate."

"Jonathon."

"Don't play games. What on earth are you doing here?"

"I suspected that there was something going on when you called me. But I knew you wouldn't tell me what, so I called Alyssa. She wouldn't tell me, either."

"Unfortunately," Alyssa continued, rolling her eyes, "the school bell went off while we were still talking. Next thing I knew, he was at school. And then he proceeded to follow me around, until I had to tell him what was going on, so I could actually get something done."

"Nate. You have to get out of here. Now. I don't know what's going on, but the one thing I do know is that it's no place for a human being to be."

"Aren't you human?"

Jonathon laughed, the sound both amused and bitter at the same time. 

"I'm barely clinging on to the remnants of my human. Angel and demon in one. There's not much humanity left in me. Hell, with my recent makeover, I don't even look human anymore."

"You look fine to me."

"With black and green eyes? Seriously?"

"Your eyes aren't black and green anymore."

Jonathon frowned, his brow furrowing. Instead of questioning his friend, he went over to the cabinet and looked in the glass, angling himself to catch the light at the right angle. 

His friend was right. The black was gone - in his sclera at least. On the other hand, his irises had significantly darkened, turning an emerald green that seemed to dance and shine. It certainly wasn't as strange as having his black eyes back, but it would definitely stand out wherever he went. 

"I still don't look particularly human. But that's beside the point," he continued, turning around to face his friend again. "I don't want you here."

"I want to be here."

"Why? You've just scratched the surface of our world, and you've already got hurt. I've seen what happens to mortals that get dragged into this mess. I'm not-"

"Where else am I suppose to be?" Nate interrupted, cutting across his friend an unusually irritated voice. "Sitting at home, watching the world go by, while my two closest friends decide to take on a crazy faerie, and a human that became so twisted that she became one of Greater Demons?"

"Yeah. Pretty much. Look," he said, putting his hands on the table, and meeting his friend's unwavering gaze. "I don't you getting hurt - again. I don't want to have to tell parents how you ended up in hospital - or dead, for that matter."

"Don't bring them into this. This is between us. I'm old enough to make my own choices. And I'm choosing to be here. If I have to be the damn carrier boy, or the one who runs around in the background doing all the odd jobs, the heroes don't want to do. But there's no way I'm going to just wait around, probably wake up to find the school half ruined and have no idea as to what happened to you two. I'm going to be with you two whenever this goes down."

Jonathon wanted to throw up his hands in exasperation and drag Nate home. To cast a spell on him that would make him sleep until morning, and make sure he was safe and sound. 

And yet.

If he and Alyssa didn't make it out, (a possibility), Nate might go looking for answers. Considering the fact that he knew what was out there, and was in London, there was little chance that he would come up empty handed, especially if he was looking - and there would be no-one there to protect or help him if something went horribly wrong. 

He didn't even consider wiping his memory. Alyssa would never allow him, or even forgive him for suggesting it. Anyway, could he really do that to his friend? Someone who trusted him. 

He closed his eyes, and opened them again. 

"Just promise me one thing. If say or signal to run, just do it."

"Alyssa already extracted this promise from me."

A wry smile graced his face. "I should've known. But in all honesty, this is nothing like a film. You won't miraculously survive if you don't do what we say."

"I will, Jon. I promise."

He sighed and sat down, finally. "Welcome to Team Insanity." 

"We have a name?" 

"I just thought of it now. So," he continued turning to Alyssa. "What did you find?"

Alyssa took her phone from her pocket, and tapped the screen lightly, before tossing it to him. 

"Nate helped me find the rest. I found the first one at the end of break - and once he saw through the glamour over them, it was easy for us to find the rest."

Looking at the screen, his eyes widened, then narrowed at the images that presented themselves to him as he flicked through the screen. 

"This is... ambitious."

"Demon symbols. If I'm not mistaken."

"Surrounded by other symbols to hide them, and the energy that they give off. Lilith's word, no doubt. Written in demon blood -

"and faerie blood," Alyssa finished. 

"But why?" Jonathon mused aloud. "Why would she use faerie blood as well? And why do I feel as if I should know what she's doing?"

"Would this help?"

Jonathon looked at the piece of paper his friend was offering him. It was a map of the school - but Nate had drawn over it, recreating the configuration of symbols that they had found precisely, symbol for symbol, using the a red pen for the ones in faerie blood, and a black pen for those inscribed in demon ichor. 

His friends looked on as brow furrowed further and a worried look came onto his face.

"Jon?" Alyssa asked urgently. "What's wrong?"

"Could I have a pen, please?" he said quietly. 

Nate handed him one, and for a minute Jonathon was silent, tracing invisible lines over the paper, until he bought it down to actually meet the paper, slashing out lines that quickly formed an enormous shape that they all recognised. 

A pentagram. 

A giant pentagram that encompassed the entire school building. 

"So she's summoning a demon?" Alyssa said, realising that this wasn't good. "What type of demon needs a pentagram that large? I thought it was about power, not size."

"Exactly. So why she feels that she needs a pentagram this big is beyond my comprehension... and the symbols on this pentagram are weird as well. Normally it's just straight lines, but there are actually demon sigils at each of the five points. And then there's that jumbled mess of symbols in the middle. Seventeen symbols, nine demonic, eight faerie."

"What's the pentagram made out of?" 

"All demonic." Jonathon growled. "There's something that isn't adding up here. Something key that we're missing to work out what's going on."

"What do the symbols that form the pentagram mean?" Alyssa said. 

Jonathon looked them over for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow. 

"They're designed to keep everybody out."

"Or everyone in," Nate volunteered. "Maybe both?"

"So what whomever Lilith's summoning needs to trapped - or she absolutely can't be disturbed while performing the ritual?" Alyssa concluded. 

"I don't know yet. I need more. I need more information - the one thing we really don't have."

"Wait." 

They both looked at Nate, who looked confused and almost embarrassed, as if what he was about to say was ridiculous.

"Do you really mean anything, when you said you need information?"

"You've remembered something?"

"Not really. It was just that Lilith kept on mentioning someone. I assumed it was code for something, because it sounded so normal. How else do explain a demon like Lilith having a friend called Samuel?"

"Samuel?" Alyssa said, raising an eyebrow. "I've never heard of a demon called Samuel."

"Are you sure she said Samuel?" 

They both looked at their friend again, and were astonished to see that the little colour that he had in his face was draining rapidly from it. 

"Now that you mention it, no. I was in quite a lot of pain, and was probably slightly delirious. But it was definitely something like that."

Jonathon looked down at the page again - and then took up the pen once more, fragments of lessons coming back to him, lines of passages from books screaming out in his head. 

But most of all, Lilith's face when she said the name that Nate had misheard.

A wistful, happy, loving look. The way she looked at him when he was Sebastian - except for the fact that it was twice as intense.

He drew again, rapidly, forming the shapes that he knew he would find in the remaining seventeen points. 

Ten of them formed a five pointed star, while the remaining seven formed a heptagon. The five pointed star represented the fifth level of heaven where he had ruled, while the heptagon represented where he had lived - the seventh level of heaven, and the seven archangels that used to be a part of. 

Before he had fallen. 

The symbols now made sense. He knew exactly why they were drawn in faerie and demon blood. He was also sure that there were more less obvious ones, hidden behind pictures and posters, and in corners and ceilings all over the school. But the important ones had been inscribed in the ground, exactly where they need to be for summoning. 

Or a resurrection. 

"So? What are the two crazy queens trying to do?"

He responded with preamble or inflection. 

"They're going to resurrect Sammael."

There was a moment of dead silence in the kitchen. Utterly dead silence that was only disturbed by the imaginary whirring of his friends' brains as they tried to put this sentence into context.

"You can't be serious," Alyssa said, as Nate asked at the same time "Who's Sammael?"

Jonathon took one of the books of demonology off of the stack on the table, flick through to the section that dealt with Greater Demons, and handed it to Nate when he reached the Sammael page.

"Yes, Alyssa. I'm serious. They're going to resurrect Sammael. Or restore him. Nobody quite knows whether he's actually dead or not. Michael supposedly slew him, but nobody actually knows for sure. It's quite possible he's still alive and kicking somewhere. Or in hibernation."

"Or maybe's he's just dead."

Jonathon shook his head. "She wouldn't be wasting her time with this if she didn't think that she had a chance of succeeding."

"So this guy was once an angel?" Nate piped up from the other side of the table. 

"Which explains the faerie blood. Demon and angel blood, perfectly intertwined, although it has been diluted over the years. Something that bonds the two together, representing the two sides of the Sammael."

"And that's why she needed you as well," Nate added. "Angel and demon, bound up in the same body. A combination that was far more potent than any faerie could ever be. She must've been laughing when Valentine came to her, and offered to turn his son into a hybrid. I suppose she started planning it from then."

Jonathon and Alyssa looked at their friend in astonishment as enlightenment dawned on their faces. There was the last piece of the puzzle. The answer that was right in front of him, but simply couldn't see.

He was glad that Nate was here. 

So that's what he was. The catalyst for her ultimate dream.

"You think so?"

"It makes sense doesn't it? Why else would she willing give Valentine her blood? There was no reason for her to. No reason at all. He was going to remake the Nephilim from scratch, and use them to beat back demons. Although he probably never told her that, I'd have been surprised if she didn't suspect something bigger was going on, or knew what he was planning down to the letter," Nate reasoned. 

"But why would she wait until now to start acting? Why not when you were in Edom?" Alyssa asked aloud, turning to her boyfriend, who still looked dumbstruck. 

"She was weak when I was Edom. Very weak, but growing stronger with every Endarkened that I created. Before that, I was half dead, and before we could actually be united, she was destroyed. So there wasn't any time to anything," Jonathon realised, a look of astonishment appearing on her face. "Wow. I never would've thought of that."

"Good to have an outsider's perspective sometimes, isn't it?"

"You don't have to sound so smug," Jonathon deadpanned, unable to stop grinning, in spite of the situation.

"Well, if you're the catalyst, then you just simply need to be kept out of her grasp." Alyssa said. "But that's easier said than done."

"Especially when the Seelie Queen and Lilith are after me. But there's something else that bothering me."

"Where is she going to get the energy from?" Alyssa said. "A spell a like that is going to require a shed load of energy. Ridiculous amounts of energy. It's not like she can just speak the words and make it happen. What could she use as a source?"

"Can demons use electricity as power source?" 

"Fortunately not, Nate." Alyssa looked at him, and shook her head. "I'm keeping you away from everything supernatural. You'd give them ideas that they'd never have thought of in their dreams. But-" her eyes widened. "Oh shit."

"What?" Nate asked. 

"She can't come out in the day, can she?" 

"I know she prefers not to-" Jonathon started. "Oh shit."

"So, she's going to need a lot of energy. And at night. Where is she going to-" Nate paused. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. She wouldn't."

But it was Alyssa who verbalised what they were all thinking.

"The annual end of year school party. Which is... the day after tomorrow."


	45. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The players take to the stage.

The day after their revelation was an interesting one, for everyone who was going to be involved in the events of the next evening.

The committee created especially for the party was busy, beginning preparations for the next day. Piles of uninflated balloons, metres of streamers, party hangings and folded tablecloths were arranged around the edges of the hall. The floor was swept and polished, the windows cleaned to a transparency that was almost obscene. The chairs were stacked in two corners, ready to be transported the next day. Tables that would be laden with food lined the sides of the halls, soon to be groaning snacks and other treats.

On the field, a massive tent was being erected, the structure covering the majority of the grassy area, a stage being built in the area at the back, ready for the speakers and the DJ. The rest of the school would be closed off, but the students would be moving between the hall and the tent, from seven to twelve, five hours of uninhibited fun. The Sixth Form and the teachers would be the chaperones for the younger years, except for Year Seven and Year Eight, who were not invited. They always tried however, and usually one or two got through. 

There was no alcohol allowed, being a school function and all, but it really wasn't necessary for them to have a good time. Boxes of supplies for the parties, were stacked around, out of the way so that people could run to and fro, the two day preparation period well underway from the early hours of the morning. 

But there were others in the mix, others who were making their plans, and storing things up for the day that was to come. 

...................................................................................

Harrison had his marching orders. 

Make sure as many people come as possible. The more people that are there, the more people that will be instantly free from his spell. The others who aren't there will take longer to return back to normal, so it is in their best interests to be present when the spell is cast, and he is destroyed. 

So today, he was a social butterfly. 

Fluttering from social to social group with a few of his cronies, he used his natural charisma and status as one of the most popular people in the school to make people feel wanted, acknowledged and welcome to come. He paid enough mind to the popular children to make them feel that their status was justified. 

But it was the less popular children that he paid the most attention to. 

Generally, he would ignore them, or sneer them if he deemed their actions worth of his attention. But today he was all for them. Actually, he had started a few days before, but today he was in overdrive, making sure that as many people as possible were coming. Harrison made sure that he had covered all bases, sending other people out as well, selling the party as if it were a trip to Vegas for a week, with a room in Caesar's Palace and unlimited spending money.

It wasn't difficult. All some of these people wanted was some attention, and that wasall he had to give them to get them on board. 

Then there was the matter of the younger years.

He went to see a few of the more mature looking students in the years that weren't allowed to come.

"You can get us in?"

"Definitely," he replied, knowing that it wouldn't be as difficult as they thought. Some of his friends would be posted on one of the side gates for about half an hour. He could easily get them in without anyone noticing. And nobody would be paying attention on the way out.

As many people. That's what she said. As many people.

So that's what he would do. 

................................................................................

Jonathon, Alyssa and Nate had come in early. Earlier than most teachers, and certainly before most pupils. Finding one of the main symbols, they had tried to destroy it, disfigure it, alter it - anything to stop it from being active. 

But they soon found that it wasn't going to be that easy.

"Damn!" Jonathon said, as he ripped his hand away from the symbol. As soon as he'd drew a line through it, scoring thorough the demon blood, the invisible symbols around it had started to glow, softly and silently, and they all jumped back as they felt a searing heat rise from them, invisible, lightless heat that dissipated as soon as they were out a certain range.

"Warded," Alyssa said grimly. "At least we managed to damage one."

"But we're not going to be able to damage the rest."

"How come?" Nate asked, looking at the beads of sweat that were running down his friend's faces, and feeling the trails that were coming from his hairline. 

"That configuration around that symbol links to all the others - a security system of sorts. Now that's it been activated, anyone that gets to close is going to get burnt or boiled to death. Or incinerated, if they're too close. But they're also emitting a low level repellent spell to keep everyone away from them." Jonathon rolled his eyes. "They really have thought of everything."

"Then we're going to have to go with the other plan," Alyssa said. 

The three of them went back to the bushes where they had dumped their bags full of the stuff they were really going to need for the tomorrow evening. Jonathon, being the stealthiest out of the lot of them, went ahead as a scout, guiding them around the few teachers that were in, sending little spells to distract them if necessary. Eventually they reached the sports hall, and with a snap of his fingers the door was opened. Slipping through the door, they made their way to the storage cupboard, and with a click, it opened. 

"Up here," Nate said, pointing to the highest shelf. High enough that you couldn't reach it without a ladder. 

Or someone who could jump, really, really high.

Nate tossed his bag into the air, and Jonathon leapt, defying gravity with an ease that impressed both of his companions immensely. He seemed to be suspended in midair, as he seized the bag a dumped it on the shelf, Alyssa throwing up her bag behind him. He moved faster than he thought possible, throwing the other bag next to it, before landing, absorbing the impact better than before.

"I'm not sure I can get used to that," Nate announced. "That was... amazing." 

"That's the demon blood," Alyssa told him. 

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's not a good thing, but it'll actually help tomorrow night. I just hope I can keep it under control."

"You'll be able to. And if you can't-" Nate shrugged. "Then we'll just send you in the right direction. Point you to the bad guys until you're calm again."

"That's reassuring."

"That's all we'll be able to do."

"That's all you'll be able to do," Alyssa corrected. "Remember, you need to stay out of sight and out of mind."

"You've only told me hundred times."

"Nate-"

"Don't start."

"If the two of you are finished, we should be getting out of here. Just a thought. Before the early morning sports clubs arrive?"

They left quickly and quietly, Jonathan closing everything up behind him. He'd added a little diversion spell to the bags just to ensure that no-one disturbed them under any circumstances. He couldn't have them being discovered. 

They'd only have a small window of time to stop Lilith and the Seelie Queen from raising a demon that was once an archangel. A demon so powerful that it had taken Michael to defeat him, one of the most famous and powerful of the angels, not only in Nephilim history, but throughout the world, only superseded by Gabriel, and Lucifer himself.

They wouldn't stand a chance. No-one would. The Earth would be overrun , and door to hell torn open. The human race would be enslaved or wiped off the face of the planet, and the demons would turn the world into a second Edom, or into one of the worlds that lay in the Void. The children of the demons would either join their ancestors or perish in their attempts .

He shuddered at thought as Alyssa and Nate continued to argue behind him as they left the school to go and get breakfast at a café.

Looking back at them, and at the school, Jonathon knew that he couldn't fail. Not at all. They were so happy, so beautiful - and they were his friends.

Nothing was going to happen to them. He wouldn't allow it. 

Even if it cost him everything.

........................................................................................

Alyssa knew what Jonathon was thinking as she watched him eat, Nate and him inhaling the plates of food as if it were their last meal. It wasn't - that was likely to be tomorrow.   
She knew he would sacrifice himself for her and Nate. 

But she wasn't going to let that happen. If anyone was going to fall tomorrow night, it would be her. A faerie knight falling in battle was hardly unusual. At least this time, she would be fighting alongside two people she actually cared about. She'd always fought for a purpose, but never really alongside those she loved. And now, she was sitting here, with her boyfriend and her best friend, loving every moment of it. 

All she knew is that in the end, even if she was gone, they would be fine. 

That was all that mattered.

......................................................................................

Nate watched them as they walked next to him, holding hands as if they weren't going to be in for the fight of their lives tomorrow. The future of their world rested on demon-angel hybrid and a faerie warrior. 

And him. 

A human. Mixed up in an ancient battle of angels and demons, completely thrown in at the deep end. He looked at his arms, expecting to see a mass of scars from where the demons had scratched him, bit him, tore at him as if he were their toy. Or their lunch. 

But he was well. Thanks to the two people walking next to him. 

Alyssa had been alone for so long, even if she had never shown it. He had really been her only friend at school - and sometimes he had still detected an air of loneliness about her. An emptiness in her eyes. 

It had all gone when Jonathon had appeared.

Even before they had started dating, he had seen the change come over her. He had satisfied her need for a friend; a trustworthy, long lasting friendship between two people who didn't want anything but companionship from each other.

Jonathon had fulfilled her other need. The need for a lover, a partner, a truly kindred spirit. 

He couldn't have honestly said that he wasn't jealous at first. It seemed like he was being replaced.

But those feelings hadn't lasted long. He'd liked Jon, and he and Alyssa were literally brother and sister. And they hadn't kept him out, or excluded him from their lives as if he no longer existed. Nate had become so used to them together that he it would almost be unnatural to see them apart. 

He didn't want to see them dead. Yi and Mark were good friends, excellent friends. But Alyssa and Jonathon took first place when it came to who he felt the most strongly about. Without them-

It wasn't something he wanted to think about. 

So, despite what they said, he was going to do everything he could to ensure the two of them made it out alive. He didn't want to die, and he wasn't going to put himself in unnecessary danger just to prove a point. 

Other than that?

Nate was going to do everything he possibly could to ensure that they made it out alive. 

...............................................................................................

After everyone went home, the school was quite. Night fell, a blanket that was elegantly drawn down from above, fluttering down to encase the city in darkness and a limited stillness. 

The school was locked up, sealed for the night, the locks on the gate tighter than those on a bank safe. 

But two figures still stalked the corridor, locks and doors as useful as wet paper against them.

The Eidolon and Lilith stopped by the symbol that Jonathon had defaced earlier on. She brushed her hand along the wall as the heat started to rise, breaking the security system in one go. 

"My son has been misbehaving again. Typical. He embarrassed me by running off like that."

She cut the tip of her finger with her nail, and elegantly carved the symbol back into the wall, before stepping away and reactivating the security system. 

"But how do you know you son will come tomorrow? If he stays away-"

"He won't. Whether or not he knows exactly what I've got planned, he'll be here. He's a Shadowhunter - and their innate desire to save everyone and everything will bring him right here. If he could contact the London Institute for help, then I would not be so certain. Everyone in the Shadow World fear and despise the memory of my son. If they realised that he still lived, they would hunt him ceaselessly. He cannot turn to any of them for help. And he will not abandon these people. He will come. And tomorrow, we will begin to reclaim this land once more."

....................................................................................................

"Are our preparations ready?"

"Of course, my lady."

The Seelie Queen looked at Vire sideways, the knight unnaturally still next to her. 

"Are you sure? This is the Queen of Demons that we are trying to deceive."

"I have double and triple checked."

She smiled, a twisted cat like expression that looked was more like a feral sneer than anything else.

"Then tomorrow, the faerie race rises anew. I will be designated the Queen of a new age for faerie kind. My name will be remembered forever more."

She raised her glass to herself and took a sip. And then another. And finally, a draught, draining the cup in one swallow, the sweet fermented fruit juice sliding down her throat like velvet, as she contemplated the coming of a new world. Her world.

.............................................................................................................

The players were set and ready, and the stage assembled.

Now they waited for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place.

And so the clock ticked onward, counting down to final hour.


	46. Countdown

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Alyssa raised her sword, and charged at him, whipping it round at him, not holding back for an instant. 

He watched her swing. Watched the sword arc towards him. It seemed slower, as if she were tired, and his sword moved like a ray of light intercepting hers efficiently, without preamble or hesitation. But she was already gone, the ringing sound of the colliding weapons echoing in his ears as she stabbed at him. Twisting aside, he launched his own attack, his sword sweeping down mercilessly, as she retracted hers and just managed to get there in time to deflected, and slid her sword up his, forcing him to jump away, a flick of his sword forcing her to do the same.

It was his turn to attack. In the air, he went soaring over her head, slashing downward as she dropped into a split, before she performed a complex manoeuvre, worthy of an Olympic level gymnast that had her standing and charging as Jonathon landed, and spun around, intercepting the strike that was coming his way. 

Sparks flew as the fought, engaging back and forth across the floor, bouncing off the few spots of the wall that weren't completely covered in weapons, sliding past each other, aiming the occasional kick and punch at each other, neither of them managing to connect. Even with his new advantages, Alyssa was still a formidable opponent, adapting her style to completely match the his increased strength and speed. 

Weapons were switched out at random. Axes, spears, short swords, sai blades, sickles and a whole host of others that just faded into one another, all of them perfectly balanced in their hands, becoming extensions of their personalities and souls. But they for them it was simply a formality, a natural progression as the time elapsed, Alyssa slowly tiring, as was Jonathon, albeit at a much reduced rate.

Then it was no weapons, the two of them engaging in hand to hand combat that was an art form to behold - a lesson in both brutality and elegance. Ducking, diving, weaving and spinning when necessary, not wasting a movement or an ounce of time. Fists flew, and kicks were launched, the moments of stillness contrasted by the long sequences of intense motion. 

A few blows landed, neither of them holding back at all, Alyssa focusing on his weak points while Jonathon tried not to use the full force that he now had at his disposal. It would be so easy to send her flying, to break a bone with a well placed kick - something he didn't want to do, and something he wouldn't risk, no matter what she had said to him earlier. 

"Enough," Jonathon said, as he watched her stumble slightly, the fight beginning to wear on her more than he thought possible.

"I can still go a few more rounds."

"I know. I know. But we need to conserve ourselves for tomorrow - and we've done what we set out to do. I've found my new limits."

"You don't seem to have any."

"I do - I'm just good at not letting them show."

"The demon blood really gives you that much of a boost?"

"You have no idea," he sighed, as they put the weapons back where they belonged, leaving the training room, and heading towards the kitchen picked up a towel from over the banister, and passed her one. "It's like seeing the world through a magnifying glass. Everything is just... more."

He opened the fridge and took out some fruit juice, pouring them into to enormous glasses handing her one.

"And it's not just your senses?"

"It wouldn't be such a problem if it was. It also affects my emotions... especially the extreme ones. But it's not the same as before - when I was Sebastian I mean." He smiled at her. "After all, you were the one who made me realise that."

She shrugged. "You looked like you needed a hand. You should really stop being so hard on yourself. It's not healthy. Honestly, given the upbringing you had, I'm surprised that you didn't turn out worse."

"How could I have possibly been worse?"

"It's quite easy, actually. But let's not go into that now."

"You must have quite the imagination."

"Not really much of a stretch. But like I said, let's leave that well alone for now. We've got enough to think about at the moment."

Jonathon took another long gulp of his drink, the sweet citrus mixture sliding down his throat, closing his eyes as he did. 

Tomorrow evening.

He didn't bother to open them when he finished, setting his glass down softly, but firmly. 

Tomorrow didn't really bear thinking about. 

Demons and faeries at the school party. Over eight hundred people packed into a small area, all completely unsuspecting of the malignant Sword of Damocles that hung over their heads. 

Descriptions of similar spells were littered throughout the majority of ancient grimoires and spell books that he had read, that Valentine had wrestled and stolen from warlocks that had had the misfortune of crossing paths with him. Magic that required human vitality to be fuelled, power that based on stripping a human of their life force forcibly, transforming it into pure energy that would used to by the spell caster.

No-one really used them because they were simply too dangerous. The energy itself was exceedingly difficult to control, and the spell caster would be annihilated by their own ambitions if they failed to command it properly. So those who could use magic stuck to using their own powers, preferring control and precision, like a sniper, rather than the power of nuclear bomb on a timer with no clock face.

But Lilith was no ordinary spell caster. She wouldn't have a problem with that much power. 

"Jon. Stop scrunching up your face."

"Sorry. It's just- I had everything. Everything sorted out so perfectly. You. Nate. School. Exams. Life. And then this happens. I know stuff never works out the way that anyone plans. But for it to go so far askew... It irritates me."

"Save all that irritation for tomorrow. And don't think that you're the only one who feels that way. Lilith and the Seelie Queen are trying to kill my school."

"Your school?" he teased, as she sidled up next him.

"Yeah. My school."

"Didn't know you loved it so much."

"It's where Nate and I met. It's where you and I met. And it's where I learnt a whole lot of things. It's not my favourite place in the world, but it's a place where I have a lot of memories."

"Where we have a lot of memories."

She nudged him. "And I don't want to see it tainted by a spoilt brat, and the world's worst mother. I also happen to like a few of the people there. I don't want to see them die just so that one of the most powerful fallen angels in all of history can rise again to ruin the planet. And we're the only ones who can stop it."

"We won't fail," Jonathon replied, kissing her on the forehead, his eyes still closed. Her scent filled his nose, and he put his arms around her, drawing her towards him, just wanting to have this one moment with her before everything potential went to hell tomorrow.

He didn't want to have sex with her. Not tonight. That was good and all, but not what he needed at this moment. It was her warmth, her touch, her very being he that wanted tonight. 

He just wanted to hold her, and for her to hold him. To just be together before the fiasco that would be tomorrow evening. 

"Can we-" he began, opening his eyes - and seeing her looking up at him, that half smile on her face as intoxicating as ever. 

"Can we what?"

"Just...be?"

It wasn't really an explanation. It wasn't elegant, romantic or anything else that he might've hoped for in this situation. 

But it was honest.

And she understood. Completely. 

Placing her hand in his, she kissed him - and Jonathon swept her off her feet in one smooth motion, their lips still meeting as he walked to the staircase, ascending them silently and calmly, still kissing as they went up. 

Walking along the passageway to the bathroom, he opened the door, and put her down, their lips finally parting she looked him up and down. Her hands moved, pulling off his t-shirt, undoing the drawstring on his tracksuit bottoms, letting them drop, pulling down his underwear as well, and just staring at him from head to toe, taking in everything about him at once. 

Then it was his turn, and he removed her clothing slowly, taking in every inch of her, the toned muscles, the way her hair framed her naked body so perfectly, the even tone of her skin that made her look like a living statue. 

Entering the shower together, he turned on the water, and let clear, steaming liquid nearly scald their skin as they washed the sweat from their bodies, nuzzling each other as they did so, sharing the occasional kiss, some of them soft as a pile of feathers, some of them hard and longing, displaying their raw need for each other, running their hands over each other slowly, but gently, as if they were trying to commit the very feeling of their bodies to memory through their hands alone. 

She turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower taking a towel off the rack, and throwing it to him as he stepped out of the shower. They dried themselves, and just as she finished squeezing the final few droplets of water out of her hair, Jonathon swept her off her feet again, tossing her into the air slightly before catching her, as she felt down. She laughed and hit him lightly on the chest in mock protest, as he carried her to his bedroom. Holding her with one arm, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, he bent down and pulled back the bedclothes, and the two of them fell into bed together.

With a whispered word, all the lights in the room went out, and the two of the snuggled down in the duvet and the blankets, curling up together, their bodies perfectly intertwined, a living knot that had no beginning and no end in their opinions. He clutched her like a lifeline, feeling the steady and powerful beat of her heart, and enjoying every single second of it. Every thump was a melody to him, every inhalation a chorus, every movement an electric shock, no matter how slight and meaningless they might be to her.

Lying there with her was everything he ever wanted. To just be with someone he loved, someone he cared about - and know that they felt the same way about him. 

Jonathon pulled her tighter, squeezing her harder than he intended to. 

"Jon. I need to be in tip-top condition tomorrow. Bruised, and possibly cracked ribs are preferable not on the menu."

"I love you," he whispered, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth, simply wanting her to know, wanting her to understand how deeply he cared for her.

"And I love you too," she whispered back. "Oh, and for the record? Don't you dare die tomorrow. Don't kill yourself doing something heroic. I will come to wherever you are, and find you , and torture you myself before I drag you back into that land of the living."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm serious."

"I know. I don't doubt it for a second. And don't you die either."

"I've been in more fights than there are days in a year. This is just another."

"With Lilith. And the Seelie Queen."

"Which we are going to win."

"A faerie, a human and an Nephilim-demon hybrid. Sounds like the start of bad joke."

"When we're done with them, they'll be the punch line."

"Love your optimism. But let's save some of it for tomorrow, shall we?"

"Certainly. So let me get to sleep."

Jonathon couldn't help but laugh at that one. Quietly, of course.

As she snuggled back into him, he hoped - he prayed that this wouldn't be the last time that they ever did this.


	47. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last bit of fun for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who have read this far.

School was always lively, especially in summer, but today there was an extra buzz in the air, an heightened sense of excitement and community as the night of the annual school party drew near.

Dresses had been chosen, and hung up or laid out at home, waiting for the evening to come. Shoes were still resting in their boxes, or slung carelessly in a corner, ready to be slipped on at a moment's notice. Makeup tables were prepped and restocked, the various powders and liquids ready to enhance the natural features of the faces they would grace. Earrings, necklaces and others assorted pieces of jewellery were all laid out, silently waiting to be put on, to catch the light and draw attention to their owners. 

Suits had been dry cleaned, or bought a few days or weeks in advance, ties, bow ties and cravats purchased alongside them to give colour and life. Shirts of all shades, freshly ironed or pressed, and various styles of shoes, polished till they were mirrors in their own right. Cufflinks with and without jewels gleamed in light, silver, gold and bronze. The occasional earring was there as well, but mostly there were watches, all different shapes and sizes, more ornamental than practical. In a few rare occasions, there were hats as well, from all eras and ages, so that their wearers could strut in like peacocks, ready to spread their tail feathers.

The buzz was low in the morning, and steadily increasing as time wore on. It was all anyone was talking about, even amongst those who weren't allowed to come. 

School finished an hour early, to allow everyone to go and prepare for the spectacle of the year. The students flooded out in droves, all chattering away with the noise of a flock of mockingbirds. 

Little did they know how interesting the night was going to be.

.............................................................................................

Harrison stood in front of the mirror, preening and posturing in the glass. His suit was dark grey, and bespoke tailor made, fitting him so precisely that it was almost criminal. Golden rectangular cufflinks, inlaid with black obsidians, and a narrow golden tie blazing against a white shirt, contrasting his black shoes. 

His hair was defying gravity, swept up and around in patterns, held in place by a smattering of hair gel, and freshly trimmed. 

He couldn't help but smile at himself in the mirror. 

This was going to be the best night of his life.

...............................................................................................

Jonathon walked out of his house, and locked the door, turning round to look at his friends in the twilight.

Alyssa was wearing a black pantsuit and a sleeveless blouse, both of them covered in narrow, silver vines, and tiny green leaves every few inches, with matching silver heels and simple platinum jewellery. Her hair flowed down her back, and as she flittered between her faerie and human form, he couldn't help but admire how beautiful she was either way.

Nate was dressed in white suit, a difficult look to pull off, but one that he somehow managed with relative ease. A black shirt with silver buttons, and no tie, the open collar look so natural on him that it was almost unfair. Every scrap of his hair was woven down tightly onto his head with interlocking patterns that ran in and out of each other so precisely and intricately that even a clockmaker would've been impressed. 

Jonathon himself had opted for the reverse of Nate's outfit; the traditional black suit and white shirt, the pale gold of his hair shining like a beacon against the material. He'd also opted for the open collar look, the casual look appearing natural on him. His suit was tailor made, with a little bit of magic included in the weaving if he wasn't mistaken. It had been one of his father's gifts to him - complete with pockets for fittings to carry weapons if necessary. 

Fortunately, all their equipment was already where it needed to be. 

"You ready?" he asked, as the taxi drew up at the end of the road. They could've walked, but they'd need to conserve their energy for the events that were yet to come.

And then there was the matter of wanting to look good when they showed up. 

"Always."

"Of course."

"Then let's go."

..............................................................................

They arrived as the masses began to pour in. 

Girls and boys, dressed to the nines, all of them with someone or the other, filtered through the gate, looking at each other critically, cooing over some outfits and laughing at others when no-one else was looking. Groups of boys, circles of girls, and couples of all varieties all held their tickets, waiting to get past the door keepers so that they could get inside. 

The tickets were colour coded and numbered, ensuring that people wouldn't simply photocopy the tickets and allow additional people in. In spite of this, people that weren't from the school came every year, slipped through the gates in so many creative ways that they were too numerous to list. The teachers knew that it happened, and turned a blind eye to them as long as they didn't cause any trouble. 

Jonathon, Nate and Alyssa entered through the main gate, as their tickets were clipped and registered. They continued towards venue entering in through the door, to see that the field underneath the canopy had been transformed beyond belief. 

The banners, streamers and other hangings bought colour to the room, the light that shone down from overhead bright enough for everyone to see, and dim enough to provide atmosphere to room. People were dancing in the centre of the tent, coming from the speakers that were mounting around the area, the DJ on the stage playing a mix of tunes that everyone was at least vaguely familiar with, while sliding in some lesser know songs that would get everyone dancing regardless. Chairs were arranged in small huddles around the edges, people languishing in them without a care in the world..

Walking to the hall, they found tables laid with snacks, food and drinks, cheap polystyrene plates and plastic cups stacked haphazardly after having so many people brush by. This was a quieter room, where people chatted and roared with laughter, seated in loose circles and groups, resting before they went back to the main part of the party. 

Everyone was happy, or at least seemed to be, the usually fractured body of students now linked with invisible, tenuous bonds, few of which would last longer than the duration of the event. The three stood there, watching, knowing that they all had a role to play, and hoping that they would all be able to do what they needed to.

"We've got about three quarters of an hour before full darkness. They won't make a move before then. Anyway, they'll want to ensure that they have the maximum amount of people here. The more energy they have, the better."

"So we might as well enjoy ourselves until your crazy- what is she again? Mother? Stepmother?" Nate said, as they headed towards the plates and snacks.

"I don't even know what to call her."

"Well, until she shows up."

"Which is when the real party begins," Alyssa finished.

"If you call that a party."

"I'm using the term extremely loosely."

"I guess to them, it is a party."

"Let's not think about demon parties."

"Why not? We're standing in the middle of one, aren't we?"

"Are the two of you going to do this all night?" Jonathon interjected. 

"Probably," they said in unison. "Well, at least until everything gets turned upside down," Nate added.

"Upside down. Boy, you turn me, inside out-" Alyssa hummed to herself as she stacked sweet and savoury snacks onto her plate, nibbling them as she did. 

"We are not at 80's party, Alyssa," Nate began again.

They descended into their normal banter once more, Jonathon wisely staying out of it. Instead, he watched and waited, his mind and body unusually calm. He saw Mark and Yi, who started to make a beeline towards them, both of them looking great, until they slowed down slight, puzzled expressions on their faces.

Jonathon spun around, smoothly, unnaturally fast, forgetting where he was, and instinctively knowing who he was going to see behind him. 

He had to admit, Harrison wore his suit well. Very well. 

But it was the expression on his face was interesting.

There was no disgust. No disdain. None of the usual expressions that graced his face when he spoke to Jonathon. 

Yet his eyes blazed with something that he couldn't quite read. Something he didn't quite know, or even put his finger on. It was curious. 

He simply raised one pale eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.

"Hope you have a nice night." He paused, his brown eyes somehow more alive than they'd ever been, as if they'd been injected with extra life, and excessive vitality. 

"I know I will."

He moved on, a small flock trailing behind him, all looking for just a the slightest bit of attention. Surprisingly, they were getting it, the small gestures and words he was giving out more than enough to make a lot of people smile.

"That was... weird," Alyssa said, staring after him.

"That was creepy," Nate replied. "When was Harrison ever that nice? Especially to someone who he hates."

"Maybe he's in an exceptionally good mood," Jonathon theorised aloud.

"Probably. He's definitely not going home alone tonight. I'd guess that's it," his girlfriend said, as she headed back to pour herself a cup of something.

"Who cares?" Nate took a bite of a cake before continuing. "Let's just have fun while we still can." 

He turned to Yi and Matt, as they arrived, smiling at them as if he didn't have a care in the world.

......................................................................................

Jonathon and Alyssa spent the little time that they had mingling and dancing as if it were any old party.

They didn't only dance with each other. There were plenty of other people who wanted to have fun with them, and the two of them weren't really bothered either way. Soon, they were at the centre of crowds, lost in the anthill of humanity, laughing and swirling with everyone without a care in the world.

Time ticked on, merciless and unending, until the stars just beginning to peep out in the darkness, the light that hid them in day retreating to allow night to envelop the world in its embrace. 

It was time.

Jonathon extracted himself from all the happy people surrounding him, and slipped off to one side, joining Alyssa and Nate who waited for him, still smiling from all the fun they'd had earlier on. 

The faeire threw up a glamour, and the three of the moved through and round the partygoers, skirting the edges of the tent until they slipped out of a gap in the fabric that Jonathon had unsecured earlier on in the night. 

They walked out over the field passing by couples who were making out in the dark, and the chaperones that were attempting to round everyone that had found themselves where they weren't supposed to be. 

A whispered word, and the door to sports hall opened with a quiet click. In they went, all three of them beginning to remove their clothes. The storage cupboard flew open, and the bags came down just as smoothly as they gone up, as Nate flicked on the light in the store cupboard.

Removing their finery, Jonathon and Alyssa quickly changed into their battle gear. Traditional black Shaodwhunter gear for him, and lightweight faerie armour for her. They filled their scabbards with swords, daggers and anything else they could fit in, not wanting to have to come back for anything. 

Nate placed the lightweight faerie armour under his clothing, and pulled his suit and shirt back on, hiding them completely. Jonathon handed him an adamas and metal blade, tucking it into a specially made sheath that sat neatly under his arm. 

Jonathon marked himself with his stele to protect himself from any enchantments. Alyssa wouldn't really be bothered by any enchantments. Her natural affinity to magic would be able to resist all but the strongest of enchantments. 

Nate, on the other hand, would need some protection. Alyssa altered the usual enchantment that would prevent humans from being completely lost in the faerie revels, and placed them around her friend, looking them in tightly, and adding other layers that would protect him from a variety of things that they might throw at them.

His job was just as important as theirs - for a completely different reason. 

None of them said anything, as they closed the cupboard door, sealing it off.

They walked back to the party, back the way they came, when Nate grabbed both of them and pulled them to him, the three of the all putting their arms around each other, the simple group hug transmitting all the things that they weren't going to say to each other. The edges of metal and adamas dug into them, but none of them complained. It was irrelevant. 

Nate released them, and went on ahead, slipping back through the flap, a simple glamour keeping people's eyes off of him. 

Jonathon and Alyssa shared one last look, and then a simple, gentle kiss, breaking it off before they slipped through the flap as well, entering back into the party, unseen and unnoticed, standing to one side behind the empty back rows of chairs, next to Nate who was already standing there watching the crowd enjoy themselves, waiting for the spectacle to begin.


	48. Close Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates may be a little sparse for the next couple of weeks, but they will be there, and I will finish the story. Thnak you for your continued support.

Half an hour had passed, and nothing had happened. 

Then it began. Simply, silently, and effectively.

A ripple went through the crowd in the middle of the dance floor, people hurrying to clear an area around whatever had just happened. 

 

The crowd cleared just enough to reveal the collapsed form of a boy on the floor, out cold, as if he had been lamped over the head with a tire iron. 

"It's starting," Jonathon said.

"He could've just collapsed," Nate replied. "I think he was one of the drunk ones."

"Trust me. I feel the enchantment in the air. And it's a strong one."

Mark, who was standing on the other side of the tent, suddenly stopped short, lurching backward as if he had just run into a brick wall. He staggered, and dropped into a girl who stumbled backward, dragging her friend down with her, the three of them crashing in a heap across the chairs, sending the mass of inanimate and animate down in a mess.

The girl shoved him off and looked like she was about to have a right go at him - until she clutched at her throat and head, looking as if she going to violently throw up. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she flopped down onto the grass. 

People looked around, wildly trying work out what was going on, as people began to sway, some managing to resist, stumbling and falling, while some simply collapsed under the weight of the magic that assaulted them. No-one had time to run, to make a phone call. There were a few half hearted calls for help, but they were soon silenced they fell to the ground, as if they were golems with their animation spells abruptly removed. 

Soon, the only noise in the tent was coming from the speakers, and then that too went silent, crackling off abruptly, as if there was some invisible force strangling the speakers. 

"Whoa," Nate said. "Whoa."

"Well, they wouldn't want anyone getting in their way, would they now?"

"Are they casting the spell yet?" Alyssa asked.

"No. We'd all feel that. How you holding up, Nate?"

"Alright. I do it feel it, though. It's like walking into a room full of incense. The room in question being a sauna. I'll be okay, though."

"You sure?"

"I have to be, if we're going to pull this off," he replied grimly. "Well, can you sense her yet?"

"Oh, yeah. I can sense both of them. They're approaching. Them - and I'm not sure how many others. But it doesn't seem like they're alone."

"Why would they be?" Alyssa smiled. "They're not stupid. They know what you're capable of. And I'm guessing they've got a idea that I'm not a shrinking violet."

"Yeah. Knowing Lilith, there's going to be some nasty surprises in that room-"

A pulse of light flashed, interrupting him mid sentence, as the ground shook slightly, lights blazing from all around the field, and shining through the windows, as the symbols activated, brought to life by the presence of the one who had ordered them to be inscribed. The light faded as soon as it had arrived, but the feeling in the air, the invisible field of sparks and lightning growing with each passing moment. 

Then it whooshed outward, and he felt it move in the directions of the points that formed the enormous pentagram. Jonathon felt it sink into them, and almost heard them come to life, sealing off the area from access by anyone without a certain amount of power.

But no-one was coming.

"Let's move. If we don't bring the fight to them-" Jonathon began.

"-then they'll bring it to us," Alyssa finished.

"Shall we?" Nate smiled, albeit a little nervously, indicating the direction that they had to go in.

Moving off as one, Jonathon and Alyssa walking side by side, weapons at the ready, as they approached the centre of the configuration that would supposedly resurrect one of the darkest beings to ever walk the face of the planet. 

He knew what he had to do. He knew we might not make it out alright. 

But that wasn't the immediate problem.

He could feel the storm beginning to come in, as the adrenaline mixed into his angel and demon blood, the three substances all contributing to the rising wave of aggression he was feeling at this moment. The two sides in him were already fighting, and with the adrenaline, it was a completely losing battle. They pushed against him, both fighting each other, both encouraging him to fight anything that came their way, while the adrenaline just made it all the worse. Surprisingly, neither was more vicious than the other - the only difference being that demon part was more wont to indiscriminate destruction. The angel half was just as wrathful, only it limited itself to what it considered to be evil.

Nate stood behind them, about fifteen feet back, hidden well away from them by all the spells and protections that they could've thought of, trying to ensure that he stayed safe.

The quiet hiss alerted confirmed to him what he had sensed a few moments before.

He didn't even have to look at Alyssa, as she dived forward, while he took a step backward, as demons leap out towards him. He didn't even look at what category they were; he just responded. The sword lashed out, passing through flesh with little resistance, the demon opening its mouth to howl, before the beast's head was split in half, cutting right through the bone of the jaw diagonally, dropping to the ground with a wet thud. Another came behind it, howling before his other blade went straight through its heart. He slid it out smoothly, silently, and continued to carve his way through the demons that swarmed out of the rooms, while his girlfriend blocked them from the other side.

They sang, a demon and angel in a two part harmony that only he could hear, conducted by adrenaline, the score the fight that was unfolding in front of him.

But then there were no more demons. The last poisonous presence dissolved into a mass of thick ichor, before returning to across the border between the worlds. 

Jonathon stood there for a moment, frozen in time as the blood whooshed through his head, the rushing drowning out everything else, as he readied himself for the next victim that was no longer there. He had known that it was going to be a struggle. He just had forgotten how much of constant battle it was.

He twirled his sword idly, and breathed in deeply trying to still himself. Making sure that no-one could pick up on his unease, he walked forward, strolling with a control he didn't really feel. As twisted as it sounded, he hoped there was something up ahead that he could fight. Just so that he could actually devote his full concentration to what was going to inevitably happen, without having to worry about being lost in the high. 

Alyssa's eyes met his, looking at him intently, asking him a thousand questions without saying a single word.

Jonathon couldn't answer her. Instead, he looked away and continued to walk until he was next to her, the two of them simply moving forward, staring ahead at the path in front of them. A dark energy with just an edge of lightness to it filled the air around them, coiling and uncoiling with either dark glee or impatient, wrathful anticipation. 

Neither of them looked at the other, or at Nate, who they heard moving softly behind them in the background.

The presence of the Demon Queen grew stronger as they approached, and the miasma only grew stronger the closer they got. 

Arriving by the drama department, he was caught between shuddering and shivering, and he saw Alyssa tense out of the corner of his eye. 

He indicated with one hand, making hand signals to both of his friends that they had pre-prepared, so that everyone would hopefully be safe. Or as safe as safe could be in this situation.

The door was open slightly, but he could see nothing other than the thin sliver of the dark curtain that hung from a rail that ran round the entire room. 

Moving as one, they kicked the double doors open, and rushed in, weapons ready to be raised at a moment's notice. 

Which they certainly needed to. 

Alyssa was instantly assaulted from one side by the faerie knight that the Seelie Queen had called Vire, and by the Eidolon that had attacked him in the restaurant. He noted with some surprise that it was no in a female form - an unusually beautiful female form. 

His girlfriend slashed upward and around, catching both of their blades before having to move again as they shifted. The faerie sidestepped around them with the grace of a ballerina, the clashing blades scraping against each other ferociously.

But Jonathon barely had time to notice this as he jumped backward, avoiding the swiping claws of the once human Lilith. 

"Hello, my son."

Jonathon ignored her, his blade whooshing down mercilessly, as she turned the blade aside, the adamas and the demon reacting to each other. A drop of black blood splashed onto the sword, hissing against the angelic substance.

"You can move faster than that."

She moved once again, blurring so fast that Jonathon was almost taken aback.

Almost. 

He raised his blades, and caught the descending claws on the edges of his swords. A jump back took him out of range of her kick, the high heeled boot focusing the considerable kinetic energy into a single point. 

"That's more like it."

Ignoring her once more, he attacked again, using the singing of the angel and the demon blood to increase his speed exponentially, stabbing and slashing with a fury that was born from resentment, hate and bloodlust. 

Particularly bloodlust.

The two of them clashed across the floor, Lilith actually having to concentrate more than she had expected to, as her so-called son tried to send her back across the void to where she belonged. A dance between a woman who wanted to be a mother, and child who wanted to nothing to do with his parents. 

She was impossibly fast, and strong, a blow from her closed fist sending him sailing across the room. Jonathon landed with catlike grace, the dark rage of a demon climbing inside of him, digging into the cliff of his mind, like a possessed beast, darker than ever before.

Lilith strolled towards him without a care in the world, smiling all the while.

"I really have missed you."

"Don't," he growled, his fury rising. 

"I made you what you are. Without me you'd have nothing."

He leapt at her again, whirling violently, trying to catch her off guard with the sudden movement. She ducked and spun, twisting around the blades, the steel and adamas almost missing her. Castiel caught her on the forearm, the end of the blade sweeping through the flesh, the ichor spraying out in a dark fan, Jonathon lurching backward as it soared over his head. 

Lilith hissed at him, her surprisingly human tongue lashing out of her mouth, her lips curving into a smile as she looked at him, the approval evident. 

With a snarl of her own, she leapt at him, her teeth bared, the glamour that she had kept over her eyes fading as the snakes poked out of them, spitting, their forked tongues lashing the air. Yet they were smart enough to keep themselves well safely near the holes they came out of, knowing the slightest over extension would result with them ending up under Jonathon's heel. 

He heard the sounds of Alyssa's fight in the background, and wished he could retreat and help her. But there was absolutely no way he would be able to disengaged Lilith anytime soon. He had limits, as did she - but it was him who would tire first.

The thought spurred him on, and he bent all of his will to striking her down, while she simply smiled at him, her style of assault a mixture of attack and defence, not quite toying with him, knowing that he was too skilled to ignored completely. 

She suddenly lurched forward, her nail stabbing into his side, making him gasp before he gritted his teeth together, stifling the noise. In exchange, he managed to scrape his sword across the back of her leg, hoping to slice through the sinew and the muscle, to cripple her, to slow her down.

Lilith shoved him away before he could continue his assault, and stumbled back, regaining his footing in an instant. She herself took a few steps back, and looked at his blood on her fingertips, the red darker than normal, and yet somehow more vibrant, shining in the dim light. She licked a little of it off her nail, and flicked the rest derisively on the floor. An intricate pattern traced itself into the floor, spreading out from where his blood had landed, demon symbols and words in ancient languages that predated human civilisation revealing themselves, finally activated by the final ingredient that they had been waiting for. 

She laughed, loudly, her triumph evident in the strangely beautiful sound.

"The look on your face tells me that you know exactly what will happen when I win. My love, Sammael, will rise, or be summoned back from wherever he slumbers. Just a little more blood, my son. Just a little more."

Jonathon ran his hand over his cut, healing it in an instant. 

"I don't think so."

"You really don't have a choice. I ensured that you'd be where I needed you to be, made sure that you'd have no option but to be here, now. And I will have your blood. I don't need all of it, mind you. Just enough to make things tick. Now, is this going to be done the easy way, or the hard way?"

Another voice called out over the noise of the hammer blades, as the sound of pounding feet filled the air.

"Neither, I should think."


	49. Trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you can be too smart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patchy internet is making everything very difficult. Uploads will come when and where they can. I apologise for this - but it truly is out of my hands.

Faeries poured into the room, suited and booted, swords and other weapons raised. Surrounding Lilith and himself, they held their weapons up high, separating the two of them, their faces blank and merciless. Twisting around, he saw that the Eidolon and Alyssa were also trapped in the same way, that he was. Vire stod there, the point of his sword digging into the floor, as he fell back reluctantly, allowing his fellow warriors to seal off the room, and restrict their movement. 

"Up here."

They looked over into the rows of movable seating that loomed near the other side of the room. At the top sat the Seelie Queen, her legs crossed, one arm laid casually over her lap, the other holding a fan, waving it coquettishly, her deadly smile on her face. 

"My fellow Queen. My ex-lover. And a rogue faerie knight. I still haven't been able to work out who you are quite yet, but I'm sure that we'll be able to divine that mystery at a later date."

She stood tall and regal, her face a physical representation of word gloating, her fan snapping shut with a quiet, almost ominous click. 

"I must admit, I was sceptical when I received the demon envoy came to me. Sebastian being alive, but free of demon blood. Raising Sammael. A chance to regain some of what we lost. An opportunity to raise ourselves back to the status that we once enjoyed, before the bastard children of Raziel forced us down from being the dominant species on Earth over a thousand years ago."

She began to pace slightly, while the entire room bristled with violence, the eye of the storm, if she could be considered as such.

"But then I thought long and hard about the entire situation. Why waste a perfectly good opportunity to regain what we lost?"

The fan opened once more, the gestures short and pointed, the shifting air moving her hair gently. 

"It was so easy. I didn't have to do anything but let you get on with what you actually wanted to do. You are genuinely brilliant. Using Valentine to give yourself the child you always wanted, as well as a catalyst for your ultimate goal - the resurrection of your lover. Two birds with one stone."

"Except you needed a partner. Someone to help you regain your strength. So you came to me, and I gave you what you needed. Except I have no intention of allowing demons to rule the Earth."

She stepped down, gesturing to the symbols on the floor, and then waving a hand at the ceiling. Waving a hand, faerie script appeared above them, glowing a soft red and green, beaming light down, as if they were at a club or a concert.

Lilith's eyes narrowed as she looked up. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh, but I am. You will, of course, summon Sammael back to this world. But I've just altered the spell slightly."

The Demon Queen raised an eyebrow. "And they called me crazy."

"I'd have to go with Lilith on this one, no matter how much I don't want to agree with her," Alyssa forced out, the rage in the tone evident under the incredulousness that permeated her voice. "I honestly thought that I'd met all of varieties of stupid in the world. But you had to go and invent a new one."

The Seelie Queen glared at her, and motioned with a flick of her head.

Jonathon couldn't help but flinch as he heard the thump of metal colliding with flesh, not cutting, but striking. She didn't make a sound, though. A fierce unreasonable pride burned within his chest for her, along with a deepening of his rage.

"Your rogue knight is correct, Seelie Queen," Lilith said, a smile returning to her face. 

"Are you upset because I outsmarted you?" the Seelie Queen replied, smiling back. "Are you upset because I will control three of the most powerful demons in the world?" She stopped pacing, and snapped her fan shut again. "Well, a fallen angel, a demon queen and a hybrid. But close enough."

"So you've altered the spell so when Sammael rises it will put a leash on him? And Lilith and I as well?" Jonathon said, his voice rising higher as he realised what she was intending.

"Brilliant, isn't it? Oh, and Jonathon? If you resist, this faerie traitor of yours will suffer. So get bleeding, my love," she finished with a grand flourish of her arms, comfortable in her triumph. "We haven't got all day."

Once again, he was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Except the proverbial rock was lava spewing volcano, and the hard place an arid desert covered in rock spires that would tear titanium to shreds.

Alyssa or... he didn't know how many other people would die before the Nephilim defeated the trio of Sammael, Lilith and himself. He'd probably be the first to go. 

This was hypothesising that the Shadowhunters would actually win.

"I jest, my Beautiful One. It's not as if you have a choice in the matter."

Something smashed him round the head, stunning him slightly, before hands grabbed him, forcing him to drop his weapons, forcing him to his knees, pulling his left arm to the side. A blade slashed across his wrist unceremoniously, a ragged cut that bled wildly, the last remaining ingredient splattering on the floor, feeding the spell, connecting the final wires in the magical circuits that were written all over the school. 

The symbols blazed for but an instant, turning from shimmering white, the demonic turning reddish black that twisted and turned, the faerie blood glowing with same colour, but sparking with traces of gold. The ground shook, and the dark humming in the air grew even more intense, as the spell began to activate. 

Jonathon tried to wiggle his way out from his captors, to relax, to stop his blood from flowing. But it was already too late. With every splash, despite the fact they were lessening, the invisible energy field in the air growing with each droplet. 

The faerie symbols above glowed, softly, sweetly, infiltrating the dark glow that emitted from the floor. 

"Allow him to heal himself. But do not let your blades stray from him for a moment."

The faeries released Jonathon, and he snatched his hand to his other one, healing his wrist in an instant. But it didn't matter. The damage had already been done. 

Then everything started to shift once more.

The green and red faerie sigils on the ceiling began to twist and turn, the blood they were painted in crumbling to dust that fell to the ground, the scent of burning blood filling the air. 

"You really didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?"

Everyone's eyes turned to Lilith, which was split into a truly happy smile. 

"I knew you would try something like this. I would have done the same thing in your position. Which is why I made contingency plans."

She snapped her fingers, and the Seelie Queen screamed.

All eyes now turned to her, and what they saw astounded the entire room.

The Seelie Queen had her head yanked back, her throat exposed, a cold iron knife pressed to the ivory sculpture, sizzling against her skin and blood, smoke rising from where the two met. Her captor had her by the hair, and was clearly pulling harder than he needed to, enjoying the power that he had.

"How dare you," Vire roared, starting forward, a vicious untameable look in his eyes - stopped short when the blade cut just a little deeper, the Queen gasping for breath. 

"Harrison?" Alyssa and Nate said in unison, completely and utterly astonished by the apparition that was in front of them.

"Drop your weapons. Now. Or our little human friend here starts cutting pieces of your Queen off."

"Harrison-" Alyssa started. "What-"

"Shut up, Alyssa. I'm doing this for you."

"What-"

"Silence, faerie." Lilith's voice cut through the noise, before she address the rest of them. "Drop the weapons, or your Queen will be in more than one piece before any of you can even twitch. And how will explain that to the rest of your Court?"

There was a series of rustles and clangs as they put down their weapons, the fury in their eyes evident and burning. 

The Demon Queen's smile widened. 

"Actually, pick them up. Pick your weapons back up."

The faeries looked around in confusion, and then bent down to pick their arms back up, completely bewildered. Even the Seelie Queen, in her precarious position, managed to look nonplussed.

"Allow me to show you how hopelessly outmatched you are."

She snapped her fingers, and portals shimmered in the air around them, demons pouring through, howling and screeching as they attacked the faeries.

Blood and ichor splattered as the faeries and demons fought, the room descending into chaos. 

Lilith leapt, soaring over the crowd to land next to the Seelie Queen, while the Eidolon scrambled away, making a few leaps of his own that put him standing right next to his mistress. Jonathon sprang back into action, slashing and spinning, striking down demon and faerie alike with careless abandon, his bloodlust growing with each stroke that met resistance. The symbols seemed to drink in the blood, but whether it made any change to the spell, he couldn't tell.

Soon the ranks of demons and faeries had been thinned greatly, the elegant warriors torn to shreds on the ground, while their dark opponents faded back to whatever realm they heralded from. 

The final demon gave a howl of pain, and vanished in thin air, leaving a handful of badly injured faeries, bar Vire and Alyssa, and Jonathon who stood there not out of breath at all, barely managing to think straight as the power thrummed through him, waiting and ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

He took a moment to look up to where the four figures stood, finally getting a picture of what the Eidolon looked like now. It was in the form of a tall, elegant woman, with dark hair, unnaturally pale skin, and amber eyes. A knockout, if almost too much to be real. Harrison looked over at her, even as he held the Queen, his eyes misted over with infatuation or obsession - Jonathon really couldn't tell. 

Yet it was the way Lilith watched the misguided teenager, contempt written all over her face, that told him Harrison had no idea what was really going on. Or how much danger he was actually in. 

"Harri-"

"Don't, Morgenstern. I know what you are. And I know what they are. I know everything. Siren."

"What? No, I'm not a Siren-"

"You are! Which explains why everything gone all the way to hell since you showed up! Why everyone's fallen under your spell! Why you're so good at making people like you, and follow you around! She told me all of this. And whatever's happens here is done, everyone will be free from you!"

"What are you talking about?" Alyssa yelled. "Can't you see what you're dealing with?"

"Can't you see what your boyfriend is-"

Lilith laughed again. She seemed to having the time of her life tonight. 

"The only one who appears not to be able to see is you, Harrison."

She snapped her fingers, and a noise like tearing paper filled the air, as the veil that she had spun around Harrison to disguise what was really going on in the maelstrom that he'd stepped into. At the same moment, the girl he had fallen in love with transformed from her beautiful form back into the male form that it generally inhabited.

"Surprise," it said, using the same voice that it had spoken to him in when they lay in bed together. Harrison let go of the Seelie Queen's hair in shock; but the Eidolon moved faster than he could have believed seizing her by the hair, and the knife, putting the ruler of the faerie back in exactly the same position she had been in moments before. His eyes travelled round the room, seeing the final flakes of blood falling from the ceiling. The bodies and body parts of the Fair Folk littered around the room, the odd remnants of demons mixed in with them. The cursive symbols glowing on the floor, and the dark, toxic feeling that filled the air.

"But you're... What-" Harrison seemed to choke on his own words unable to get them out.

Then the Eidolon transformed once more, assuming its demonic form, for just an instant, giving Harrison Evefield a nightmarish vision that he would never forget.

"You're not bad in bed, you know," it said, reforming into the male form with an ease that few of its kind possessed.

Harrison started to back away - until Lilith grabbed his hair, making him yelp and whine as he wiggled in her unbreakable grasp.

"Long story short, little boy. You were tricked. That's a demon. I'm a demon. Jonathon is something unique, part angel, part demon, and that knight you are so pathetically in love with is a faerie. We used that, and your blind hatred to manipulate you to setting up something that is good for us, and very bad for you. Jonathon - or Sebastian, as I like to call him, is actually the so called good guy in the situation. And you've been sleeping with a demon for the past few months. Any questions, my poor little fool?"

Jonathon could see the tears rolling down his face as his emotions and the physical pain mixed with each other, the hitching sounds coming from his throat making him want to look away. 

But he wouldn't disrespect him by doing so. And despite all the crap Harrison had put him through, he actually felt sorry for him.

"Let him go, Lilith. He's got nothing to do with this."

"But he hates you, my son. Why do you ask for mercy for someone who disliked you so much that when some random girl tells him that you're a Siren, he jumps at the chance to get rid of you?"

"Lilith. You and all demonkind twist human emotions to suit your own purposes. Yeah, he's unpleasant. Yes, he's an idiot. But he's still and innocent in all this."

She shook her head slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"This is... laughable. Pathetic. Such useless sentiments."

"What's pathetic is that you're picking on a human being!" Alyssa yelled at the Demon Queen. 

"True. But it's fun. And I am the second human being ever created. It is my right to treat fools like this and crush them underneath my heel."

A slash of her hand, and Harrison screamed, falling to the floor as she kicked him, tumbling down through the chairs, his side bleeding as the talons scored their ribs.

"Oh, and while we're on the topic of the truth?" Lilith said, turning to Seelie Queen as the dark aura that ran over their skins ratcheted up another notch.

"The reason your spell didn't work is because I didn't tell you the complete truth. A little lie, by omission."

"I am summoning Sammael. But the rule of light and dark means that if one side resurrects someone, the other can summon someone else back of an equal or less power."

The implication hit them all with force of a blizzard and sandstorm combined. 

"Yes, you simpletons. I'm bringing back an angel as well."


	50. Up, Up and Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right sorry about the wait everybody. The rest of the story is coming right now, so this ends today, as I no longer has constant access to a reliable wifi connection. I hope you enjoy it.

The energy continued to build as Lilith's spell continued to work. It was edging closer to the point where it would begin to drain the live force of those who lay unconscious and trapped within its confines. Jonathon could feel it getting ready to begin, as if it were a living being, a predator that sought out a meal like no other. 

Lilith smiled round at the bewildered faces, as she revealed her final trump card.

"Why would you resurrect an angel?" the Seelie Queen hissed at her. "Are you insane? They would smite you down in the blink of an eye."

"Not if I bind the poor, weakened thing to me. The majority of the souls will go to Sammael, and few remaining to the angel that will become my slave. I'll have fun turning him into one of the new demon lords. Or better still, we can use him to breach heaven, and destroy the angelic host once and for all."

"You're insane," the Seelie Queen replied, her eyes wide open, the rare emotion of terror etched into her face as she realised what she truly dealing with.

"No. Ambitious."

The humming changed, twisting into the melody that signified that the spell was finally ready for the next phase. Either Sammael had been located, wherever he was, or whatever was left of him had been draw together, ready to be revitalised by the power that would soon be flooding its way. 

Purple and black flames ran up and down her body, her hair whipping in an invisible breeze. Spreading her arms wide, Lilith moved her hands, writing two words in the air, the final key to the lock. 

Two names.

Sammael. And-

Jonathon nearly swallowed his tongue. 

Ithuriel. 

Of all the angels to recall. Ithuriel. 

The wings that he had sent the Clave had been ones that he had cut of Ithuriel years ago in a fit of rage. Valentine had beaten him for that, but he had already hidden them away, telling his father that he destroyed them. They were preserved with a special faerie made bag, designed to keep hunting trophies and game fresh, that Sebastian kept on a wall in one of Valentine's larger houses, hidden away in a room that his father didn't bother to enter, until he had sent them to the Clave with that note in Greek.

Ithuriel.

The Angel of Sacrifice. 

The Queen of Demons inscribed in the air, blazing as the remaining fire travelled down her arms, being sucked into the names, the Hebrew that they were written in glaring out at the world. The earth shook again, the sound of glass breaking and heavy objects falling ringing through the air, as another sound began to drown out all the others. 

A whooshing sound, as if air was sucked out of the entire school, mixed with the sloshing sound of water going down a drain.

Tiny flickers of light, like a million miniature stars, sailed through the air passing through the walls, and approaching the names, the temperature in the room cooling rapidly as energy began to be draw into it. As the first shining particles of dust met the words, they imploded, the flaming letters being sucked into a single point, before exploding outward, the ripple of light and energy blowing everyone's hair backward, forming into two shapes fed by the slowly draining life force of everyone in the school. 

Sammael was huge for the space they were in. Twelve feet tall, with a wingspan that filled the entire room. Muscular, strong, perfectly formed, he was more imposing and regal than Michelangelo's David. The malignant presence of the fallen angel filled the room, as the body began gain definition and focus, the light particles flowing into it at an alarming rate.

By contrast, Ithuriel was much smaller, although the architecture and wings were still as impressive as his more powerful counterpart, looked more ethereal, more fragile and far weaker, the amount of energy flowing into him far substantially less.

Jonathon watched in horror, the expression mirrored on the faces of everyone else still alive in the chamber, as the life force of over eight hundred people continued to filter into the two beings. 

"Destroy them!" the Seelie Queen roared at her remaining knights, who stood transfixed, Vire included, all of them caught up in one of the most spectacular events in history.

Two faeries knights leapt for the two shimmering figures, while another leapt at Lilith. Vire snarled, spinning round to engage Alyssa, and the remaining two threw themselves at Jonathon. He deflected the axe and the spear deftly, weaving himself into a web of steel once more, sparks flying as he deflect the thrusts, arcs and slashes effortlessly. They were good, but not up to par with either him or Alyssa - and with his added strength and speed, there was nothing that they could do to him. 

He swept one blade up, sparks flying from where the blade met the spearhead, catching the axe at the same time. He forced them both away, and sliced through the spear shaft in one smooth motion, while he forced the other to release the axe, sending it sailing into the wall. 

But the faeries refused to back down, drawing their daggers and other weaponry.

Jonathon didn't have time for this. Not now. 

His blades flashed, and a spray of blood erupted, as he stabbed one through the heart, and slashed the throat of the other, the two of them collapsing - only for streams of energy to be dragged from their body, splitting into two, the larger going to Sammael, before the bodies crumbled to dust. Simultaneously, a howl rent the air, and he spun round to see that the Fey warriors who had attacked the two regenerating angels were drawn into the insubstantial figures, their limbs convulsing as they dissolved, becoming part of the spell. 

A horrible, heart rendering shriek made him whip around, as the eviscerated body of the one who had engaged Lilith slumped to the ground, the body coming power as its energy was stolen as well. 

"Anyone else want to die and feed my boys at little more? You won't be affected in here, as long as you're not approaching death. So behave. We're nearly done here." She smiled as if her victory was already assured, her face looking both lustful and hopeful as she stared at her lover coming back from the dead. 

Jonathon knew what he had to do. 

It was his blood that provided the catalyst for the spell. 

He was the only one that could interfere. 

But he was going to need a hand. 

.................................................................................................

Alyssa knew Jonathon needed her - it was instinctive, intuitive, an unconscious silent message that she picked up on immediately. She was coming. But there was no way that she could do that while Vire was still on her tail. 

She needed to end this. Properly.

Their swords screamed off each other, as the attacked fearlessly, only spinning and twisting when necessary, neither of them allowing the other a single moment to form a plan to strike the other down.

Time to kick this situation into overdrive. Not that it already wasn't, but there was always room for improvement.

She dropped her guard slightly, knowing that Vire wouldn't be able to resist such an opportunity. He didn't disappoint her, and slammed an elbow into her side, knocking her off balance slightly. Alyssa watched him prepare to jump backward, the considerable muscles tensing, ready to give him the reach to swing his sword round and finish her off. 

But that wasn't going to happen. 

Reacting with all the speed she could possible muster, she jumped along with him, his eyes only just beginning to register what was going to happen. Her forehead whipped forward, slamming into Vire's nose, breaking it, an explosion of blood, and the sound of crunching cartilage filling her ears and vision. A low growl emitted from the back of the his throat, but he didn't cry out. Her knee came up, and slammed into the knight's thigh, while her free hand crashed into his throat, and the hilt of her sword into his ribcage. The triple assault send him stumbling backward, sprawling to the ground, skidding across the glowing floor. 

She leapt towards him - and he swept his sword around, a calculated, cold gesture that would've severed her in two - if she hadn't been expecting it. Alyssa threw her legs out from underneath herself, allowing herself to fall heavily to the floor, as the blade flew over her head. Using her considerable core strength, she flung herself upward, and back to feet, knowing the window of opportunity was closing rapidly. Yet she was up, and dived towards Vire, catching his arm as it swung, while she slammed the hilt of her sword into his forehead, even as he stabbed a dagger into her hip, the blade biting into the bone. Vire's head smashed into the floor, knocking him unconscious, as she rolled off of him, pain poisoning her, but not so much that she couldn't do what she needed to. Killing Vire was tempting, but feeding those two angels anymore juice was the last thing that she wanted to do. 

She looked up - and met Jonathon's eyes. 

........................................................................

A single nod was all she gave him before she turned away, yanking the knife out of her side, blood trickling from the wound, making his heart jump with pain and worry. 

But there was no time.

She would do that she had to do. And he would do what he had to do as well.

He cut his wrist again, a quick, straight swipe of his sword, the blood pouring into the spell, embedding him more deeply into the fabric of spell casting, immersing and entrenching him deep within the flow of energy in the room, as he actively sought out the magic, using the demon blood in him delve deeper than he thought possible. 

He saw them all; saw them all in ways that he didn't think possible. 

Lilith was mass of darkness, a shadowy, willowy figure, with hair that pooled on the ground, her eyes glowing red and silver, the humanity that underlined it apparent but almost completely invisible. Sammael was even darker, the void of space with a few pinpricks of light within him, the remnants of his heavenly origins; altogether an impressive sight. Ithuriel was a soft gold white, pleasant and warm, but with a knot of burning radiance at the centre, a steel core in the covered by all of his kindness and mercy. Alyssa, Vire and the Seelie Queen were mixtures of light and darkness melded and welded together in ways they he could simply not understand, so deeply intertwined that it would be near impossible to separate them. Harrison glowed with a little quiet light, incomparable to the rest - but it was steady and strong, pulsing away merrily, in spite of the fact he was bleeding all over the floor.

He ignored all of them, and focused only on avoiding the only two that would prove dangerous to him.

And focusing on the one that would likely be fatal to bother.

....................................................................................

Alyssa threw her knives, straight and true, two steel daggers imbued with Fey magic, and then an adamas one she had swiped from Jonathon, and the blade that Vire had shoved in her side. 

By the time Lilith had registered they were coming, it was too late for her completely dodge them. She had thrown them with full force and positioned them so that once-human would be struck by all of them.

One of the runed daggers slammed deep into her skin, half in her right thigh, half in her knee, while the other sank deep into her other thigh. The adamas one thudded into her stomach, exploding into light as the holy met the damned. The normal one scored her cheek - but only after it had passed straight through the palm of her hand. 

Her shriek was a terrible grating roar, high and low at the same time. Vire jerked back to consciousness, the Seelie Queen winced, Harrison clasped his hands over his ears, and Alyssa smiled. Even the Eidolon looked disturbed, dragging the Faerie ruler back, away from his mistresses' rage. 

Lilith's face contorted into an horrid sneer, her attention completely focused on the faerie who had dared to hurt her. Removing the blades from her body, she lengthened her fingernails once more, and began to stalk towards Alyssa, taking her sweet time. 

Exactly what Jonathon needed. He couldn't have anyone interrupting what he was about to attempt here. Despite the pounding fear that rose within him on behalf of his girlfriend, there was only one way that he saw of stopping this entire mess from going any further than it already had.

He just hoped that Alyssa would be able to survive his demonic mother's onslaught until he could finish what he needed to do.

While she was distracted, Jonathon plunged himself even deeper into the spell, the magic flowing through him, healing the cut in arm again, the blood he'd spilled more than enough to ensure that he was a part of the spell's intricate working, a cog waiting to be slotted, not quite knowing where he was going.

His intent, on the other hand, was directly opposed to his lack of direction.

Jonathon felt the overwhelming dark strands of the demonic energy surging through the entire tapestry, twisting, swirling, the nervous system, supported by the never ending stream of human life force. But he ignored it all seeking out what he really needed, the only thing that mattered. The particles of faerie blood, containing both Heaven and Hell. He found the motes of Heaven within the unbreakable knot of light and darkness, and followed them, looking for the only one who could possible save them now. 

It was hard. Amidst all the darkness. Amidst all the confusion. Amidst all the worry and hurt and pain. 

But he clung onto the little patches, holding onto them for dear life, as he sought out what he was looking for.

And then he found it. The golden thread. A little golden thread amongst all the darkness. 

Despite all the reservations he had, he couldn't see any other way of fixing the problem that presented itself to him. 

Forgive me. 

He diverted a few motes of the human energy away from the darkness, towards the golden thread, thickening it, strengthening it, focusing intently on developing the cognitive functions. 

Intently, he focused on his work, ignoring everything around him, simply trying to complete the near impossible task in front of him.

And then there was spark. A little spark. A spark that he fed with more energy, fuelling it, hoping that he hadn't killed anyone in the process. 

It expanded, evolved, developed - and the sensed him.

Ithuriel had woken up.


	51. Meeting of the Minds

The Angel of Sacrifice consciousness was completely alien to him. 

Not that he'd touched many minds before - but he had expected there to be a shred of recognition, the two of them sharing angelic powers and all. But his mind and the angel were two completely different entities, miles apart in almost every way possible.

So many layers, so many sections, so many parts, an infinite, multidimensional labyrinth designed for a being whose power would dwarf his in every conceivable manner. 

Jonathon fell into the whirling maze, search for a sign that Ithuriel was aware that he was in his mind, trespassing in a realm where most would not even dare to tread.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. The irony was not lost on him. He was truly foolish to be here. Any mortal would be foolhardy to willing enter an angel's mind. A demon-angel hybrid? Even worse. 

One that was the son of Valentine Morgenstern?

Suicidal.

Yet it was his only option. The one viable card that he had left to play.

So in he went, soaring, through the arches, stairwells and passages, the twists and turns, that were the intricate details in the mind of angel. He passed through rooms that looked like nothing he'd ever seen before, shapes, symbols, images and landscapes that he'd never ever seen before, and probably never would see again. Some of them were so beautiful, that it could've only been heaven, and some of them so sinister, that it actually hurt to look at them for more than just a passing glance. 

Memories. Not the actual conscious angel.

Which was a major issue.

Ithuriel had lived what could only be described as eons; sifting through all of his memories would take far longer than he had. 

And all the people trapped within the spell were still dying, their life force being slowly extracted feeding the two angels on a drip feed, so that they would be restored, fully and properly. 

Shadows of words, and words that shone brightly shot past him, giving him impressions of thoughts, ideas, and plans - some of which had come to pass, some of which were reignited, born again with the angel's rebirth. Visions of the sacrifices people had made, and the pain they had endured for those decisions also appeared.

But Jonathon knew what he was looking for.

Something that jolt the angel awake. And he knew where to start.

He tentatively reached out with his mind, searching for the recollections of Ithuriel time on earth. 

The labyrinth rumbled abruptly, responding to his call, dredging up memories that were amongst the more recent ones; ones that full of agony and pain.

A name flashed through his mind - John Thaddeus Shade. 

And then he was Ithuriel. He felt part of himself ripped away, the human sorcerer not managing to capture all of him, but enough of him to power a tiny clockwork angel that hung around the neck of one that shouldn't have been born. The offspring of a Shadowhunter and a Eidolon demon. But she had been kind, loving, and had even bonded with him for a second, turning into him - something that should've killed her, had he not intervened, shielding her from the brunt of the angelic wrath that would've struck her down. Tessa? Was that her name? 

He remember being summoned down to Earth by the one who had engineer this child, and had seen the sigils and the diagrams, the symbols and the notes. 

The same notes that had been sitting next to Valentine when he had summoned him back to Earth about a century later.

Flickering forward beyond the speed of human thought, he felt himself being dragged down to the Earth, as the spells, spells that no mortal should ever have access to forced him to retain a smaller form than he was accustomed to. Jonathon looked down at his father, whose eyes stared up into his, empty of anything but his own desire to succeed with his then unknown ambitions. Devoid pits that lasered into his own, ready to do whatever he needed to in order to achieve his goals.

But Ithuriel knew none of this. He had been summoned by a Nephilim this time. It wouldn't be as bad as last time, he reasoned. This child of Raziel would know how to treat an angel. He obviously required some assistance, and being that he could not summon Raziel, he had summoned one of the only other angels that would not strike him down the instant he came. 

Then he had seen the symbols on the floor.

A magical trap that bound him even more than the spells did, the circle ornate and perfectly formed, not a etching or a mark out of place, all working to bind him with alarming strength and accuracy, the glow that they had had fading away to nothingness as the energy settled, preparing to keep him bound. 

He simply didn't realise for how long.

Or what Valentine was going to do to him. 

The next fifteen to twenty years blurred in his mind. It wasn't easy for anyone to hurt an angel. But a Nephilim had access to some of the few things that could. Adamas. 

And Valentine used it with aplomb, trying to get Ithuriel to speak. But that was the last thing that Ithuriel had hanging over him. The rogue Shadowhunter could take his blood, skin, hair and everything he could. He could beat him, cut him, poison him, and do whatever he liked. But his mind was his final fortress, and he would not tell Valentine anything. Nothing at all. 

So the pain went on and on, endless, countless hours of questioning and agony. But he refused to cry out, to give the madman the satisfaction of knowing that anything actually pained him.

Jonathon forced himself to watch his younger self came into the room, and cut the wings of the angel. He put his hand up on his shoulders, where his wings would be if he had them, the phantom pain stinging him, flinching as he himself felt the adamas sawing through where the bone and flesh, each stroke agonising. They would grow back, within the year, slowly and painfully. The young boy with the dark eyes stared up at him, and Jonathon felt himself cringe at the unyielding disgust and bloodlust, the raw hatred that had permeated his entire being radiating up to the angel that hung on the wall.

He watched himself leave with his prize, wrapping them in a faerie made bag that would preserve them for all eternity, blood and all, with one backward glance, the black eyes faded into a spiral that resolved itself into golden and red. 

Clary and Jace. 

Handing him the adamas blade. He didn't see them per se; he more sensed them. But they had his blood running through their veins, and he knew them just as well as he knew himself.

He sensed their confusion, pain and wanted to help them. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all in his state, except send Clary a few visions from time to time.

When they had given him the blade, he felt nothing but relief. 

Jonathon gasped as he felt the blade enter him, stabbing straight into his heart. And then he was floating and fading...

... only to be dragged back together from wherever he had been into this dark, foul mess. 

" Sebastian Morgenstern.. Sebastian Verlac. Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern."

He turned around, not quite knowing what he was about to see.

Ithuriel looked surprisingly human. 

Golden hair, lustrous and shorn to mid length, with curls that made him look like a cherub. Eyes that were the same colour as Jace's, only brighter, shining with a light that could only come from the divine. Long, curly eyelashes, tanned skin covered in white and black runes, the body perfectly formed and muscular. He was shirtless, wearing white jeans and no shoes, his golden wings stretching out, the eyes on them pure white, staring at him, piercing his soul.

He was handsome too,; an innocent, young looking face. The face of a youth who had not yet seen the world - not the visage of one who had seen the horrors of the world and experienced them for himself. 

Words escaped Jonathon completely. What was he meant to say? What could he say? He might have been a different person but still-

And then his conversation from Alyssa flooded back.

Stop being so hard on yourself.

Maybe it was time to give that philosophy a try. A real try. 

He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he began, knowing that the words were insignificant. So he went down on one knee, bowing his head, as if he was praying for forgiveness. 

Which in a way, he was. 

"For what?" The voice was calm, kind, even light hearted. But there was a note of steel in there, like the core that he had seen before he had delved deep into his mind. 

"John Thaddeus Shade. Valentine. Me. Well, the person that I was."

The entire labyrinth shuddered, the frozen images fading into a spiral of colour and light. He saw some many things, some many glorious and terrible images. 

"The person you once were? What has changed, Jonathon?"

The angel's tone indicated that he simply wasn't impressed by the statement.

"May I show you?"

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

Jonathon didn't bother to speak; he simply looked up, and took hold of the forearm offered to him, as angel did the same to him. 

And then he was delving through the memories of the past few months, starting from the time after Valentine had made his triumphant return from the dead. 

Jonathon didn't want to bother with, or even watch or think about what was going on. This was one story he knew better than any other - and it wasn't something that he wanted to see again. Yet it didn't seem to be an option. 

Ithuriel sped through his memories at lightning speed, digesting them, taking them him, seeing his life through his eyes, forcing him to relive everything all over again. It was unpleasant - but not as crushingly so as he had though it would be. His old memories were jarring and brutal, but even amongst them there were a few motes of pleasantness to be found. 

He couldn't help but smile when they reached his more recent recollections. The fire burning the darkness out of him - and everything that followed afterward - that friendly British Shadowhunter, London, his first few days, the loneliness, the advice the woman had given him, his first day at school. 

Meeting Nate. Meeting Alyssa.

Making friends with them. Falling in love with them in two completely different ways. 

Then there was Lilith, and the Seelie Queen, her plot to raise Sammael, and then update about Ithuriel- 

And then there was now.

When the sights ended, he found that he had been staring into those golden, beautiful eyes the entire time. 

Jonathon watched the structure of his face change, from impassive to a wry smile, almost grudging. Almost, but not quite. A hint of admiration? Possibly, but he couldn't be certain, and pushing his luck at this moment was one of the last things that he wanted to do. 

"Jonathon Morgenstern. I have seen billions upon billions of humans walk the Earth. I have seen thousands upon thousands of the races of the Shadow World walk with the humans, and then in the shadows of their civilisation. Few of them have led such an intriguing life. Even if the majority of it was life as a slave. You have built something for yourself from the ruin of your life. I am impressed."

"So will you help us get rid of Lilith and Sammael?" Jonathon asked, getting straight to the point. Lilith could be killing Alyssa out there, and he wouldn't even know about it, let alone be able to be able to do anything about it.

"I will."

Jonathon seemed surprised. He hadn't expected convincing the angel to be so easy.

"Do not seem so surprised," Ithuriel replied, pulling up to his feet, releasing his forearm. "I have always loved humans, despite what they have done to me. I have always wanted to help. I see each of you as individuals, rather than as a species. And I have seen your heart, Jonathon Morgenstern. Despite your current return to your demon heritage, you are still a good person." 

Yet there was still one hitch in the plan.

"How are we going to do this?"

"That is the one snag in the plan. I am far too weak to do anything useful. Not without draining a lot of the humans of all of their energy."

"You can't-"

"Of course I will not." Ithuriel sounded hurt, almost offended. "I would never consider that option. I will not have the blood of innocents on my hand."

"Then how are we going to restore you to a state that you can do something-" His voice faded, as the dots connected, forming a complete picture as the logical solution presented itself to him. 

Memories that weren't his own flickered through his mind, Ithuriel's memoirs, informing him of exactly what would be required of him.

But he had known that would be the case. He'd suspected it from the time that the spell had activated; before even. 

Ithuriel took his chin in his hand, staring deep into Jonathon's eyes, pinioning him in place.

"Are you prepared?"

"As I'll ever be. Just-"

He couldn't finish the sentence.

"I know Jonathon. And I will."

A tear ran down his face, curving itself over Ithuriel's hand, and the angel wiped it away, cupping Jonathon's face with his other hand as well, kissing him on the forehead.

And then the world turned white as he returned to his body.


	52. Burning

He took the entire situation in, as he was slammed back into his corporeal form, letting his head clear from the disorientation, his head pounding, his nose bleeding, and the tears that he had been crying in his dream following him here. 

He didn't bother to brush them aside, working through it, seeing that the Seelie Queen was still in the position that she'd been in when he had plunged into the fabric of the spell, the Eidolon still holding her in his iron grip, exposing her neck, holding the iron knife to it, the metal hissing against her skin, leaving a mark that would take a long time to heal. 

Harrison still lay on the floor, clutching his bleeding side, making hacking noises as he coughed up blood, his heart beaingt slower than it should've been. Vire still lay on the floor, but he had managed to drag himself away from centre of the maelstrom, and was moving swiftly towards the stands, towards he Queen - although what he was exactly going to do was beyond Jonathon's comprehension. He looked like he had major concussion, and kept falling every time the knight attempted to stand upright. A trail of vomit trailed behind him, and his eyes were bloodshot and wildly spinning around the room; yet his sense of duty and purpose dragged him onward. He was loyal. That had to count for something.

Then there was Alyssa and Lilith.

Black and midnight blue swirled round each other, neither of them having their hair tied up, talons and swords clashing at every moment.

He remembered asking her why she left her hair loose when she fought, arguing that someone could easily grab it.

"It'd be their mistake," she had replied, smiling at him, almost daring him to try. 

He never had. 

The Queen of Demons snarled, trying to kill the insect that had attacked her, while the motes of light continued to flitter into the two angels that were being summoned from the grave, the smaller figure of Ithuriel a brighter, scaled down model of the Sammael. 

The Angel of Sacrifice looked up at him meeting his eyes. 

He tore himself away from his gaze, watching girlfriend and his demon mother duke it out, both of them ferocious, neither of them willing to back or surrender - the options an impossibility for both of them, a fate worse than death, a stain on their track records as fighters. 

As she kicked Lilith in the stomach he couldn't help but smile. Fearless, brave - and beautiful to boot. More than he could've ever dreamed of, more than he could've ever imagined for himself. More than he would've ever thought possible. 

He looked up to another point in the room, and gave a little salute, before turning back to face the angel, whose eyes had not moved from him. 

"I give myself to you. Freely and completely."

It wasn't a spell. It didn't need to be. 

The words themselves were simply a key. A key that could be used over and over again with no effect at all, a key that could be used a million times over - and it would never open the door. Words that were complete meaningless, sounds that were emitted from the throat, to be heard and ignored; to believed and disbelieved at will.

But when spoken truthfully, and without restraint, certain doors were unlocked, particular gateways rediscovered, portals to dimensions unknown accessed, walls torn down spinning from substance into the nothingness of the abyss. 

These words were especially potent when directed to the only being in the room who could actually use them.

The entire room thudded with power, the raw energy of a tempest that have would've put a hurricane to shame, a shockwave rippling across the room, knocking everything loose backward, the walls cracking, one of them even buckling slightly. Alyssa and Lilith flew through the air, both of them landing on their feet, expecting the unexpected as always. 

Harrison was slammed into the stands, while the Seelie Queen and the Eidolon flew backward, smashing into the wall so hard that it was painful to watch. Vire was picked up on the floor, and dumped back on it unceremoniously and brutally.

"Sammael is reborn!" Lilith cried, overexcited at the prospect of seeing her beloved once more, flicking her hand at Alyssa to send her stumbling backward, in spite of the warding that she had on her weapons and armour. 

But the sight she was presented with was completely different from the one she expected to be witnessing.

Ithuriel was flexing, the invisible chains that held him in place appearing about his person; glasslike, crystalline with a seam of deep darkness woven into them, appropriate for binding the greatly weakened angel in place.

But he was no longer as weak as he should've been. 

The golden shadows that were his wings became solid, coated in beautiful, almost metallic feathers, with just enough flexibility and substance to show that they were real, living things, without taking away from their solidity and resplendent beauty. Corded veins of gold and white built themselves into sinew, muscle and bone, forming from the neck down, his spine and ribcage stretched over with taut, perfect skin, perfect limbs and appendages created, sparkles of gold showering off, exploding with tiny little puffs of smoke and fire as they struck the demonic aura that filled the room. 

"How?" Alyssa whispered, only audible to the Lilith and the others who had preternatural hearing, verbalising what everyone was thinking. 

The Demon Queen and the faerie knight both saw the sight at the same time. 

Jonathon's eyes glowed, shining bright green, a vivid, lucid green, the green of a verdant, rolling hill that you were supposedly only found in people's imaginations. Even when he looked at them however, it simply wasn't the main attraction. Beneath his clothing glowed green as well, concentrated in the centre of his chest, pulsing in time with Ithuriel's, their two cores in perfect synchronisation, thudding to the same frantic beat that slowed in the few seconds that they watched, stunned beyond all motion and speech for but a few moments.

With every beat of his heart, Ithuriel grew brighter and stronger, responding to the bond that they had formed with each other, the Angel of Sacrifice's newly formed body giving one great heave, the chains shattering to little pieces that crashed to the ground, shattering into powder that was blow away by the oncoming storm. 

Lilith began to move - and twisted aside, avoiding Alyssa's sword, but not her arm, as she knocked her over, slamming her into the floor. The green and gold blasted outward, mingling and dancing together, brothers in arms preparing to take up their weapons and take on the world. 

Alyssa rose to her feet, dancing backward, but not before Lilith took a swipe at her, carving through her armour like paper, her nails dragging deep into her flesh. A backhand sent her stumbling away, sending her crashing to the ground, while her opponent spun round, had raised her hands, summoning her power once more to try and regain control of the situation. 

Jonathon and Ithuriel howled at the same time, raising their arms, releasing a blast of energy in her direction, making her leap carelessly out of the way, as the gold and green struck where she had been, gouging out a path in the floor, carving through the etched symbols. 

The magic shifted, sparks crackling lashing out at everything, burning flares of energy as the carefully controlled web began to unravel. The very air around them seemed to grate and shift with tension, a high pitched screeching, whining keen that blasted through the room, the sigils and circles all turning a dark purple, with elements of black and red, the entire mixture unhealthy looking, and yet so captivating that it was difficult to look away. 

Yet the angel and the hybrid ignored it all, resonating with each other on frequencies and dimensions that no-one else in the room could comprehend. Ithuriel blazed like a seraph blade, his body fully corporeal now - but Sammael's was becoming more solid as well, the spell now feeding him human energy at an accelerated rate. 

Lilith laughed from the floor. "Thank you for hastening things along! I did not want him to gorge on his first meal in centuries, but this is certainly better than nothing! With each death, his power will grow," she continued, rising to her feet, spreading her arms wide, dark silver fire appearing in each hand. "For he is the still, even after the fall, the Angel of Death who guides souls to hell! Become his sustenance!" 

And with that she whipped her hands to sides, silver fireballs flying towards everything in the room that still lived.

Another pulse of green and gold thudded out, a flat shockwave that snuffed out the flames - and she screamed, enraged beyond belief, leaping to strike down her son, no longer caring that he was her child, frustrated that her plans were being disrupted by the catalyst she had created, infuriated that he had found a way to circumvent her power.

Jonathon saw her coming, heard her call - and knew what he had to do. 

Springing forward, he collided with Ithuriel, plunging through the nearly solid form, and disappearing in a flash of light, dragged straight into the angel. Ithuriel roared, and Jonathon screamed, as light met darkness, the angel exploding into a growth spurt, shooting up, wings flaring outward, carving into the ceiling and the walls, sending showers of plaster, concrete, brick and steel tumbling to the ground. 

Without another word, he swung round towards the the rapidly forming Sammael. 

Jonathon focused throughout all the pain, ignoring it, pushing it down, while he gave himself over to Ithuriel. The angel's mind and very being flooded through him, searing him - and yet he still managed to find the energy to keep himself from falling into unconsciousness, knowing that he could simply not pass out now - not when everything was going hell.

First things first. But he couldn't concentrate enough, couldn't gather enough focus to do what he needed to do. It was so hard, so 

Allow me. Ithuriel rumbled in his mind, an avalanche. We need to keep this going for as long as you can possibly manage. Save your will - and your strength.

Just save them, he whispered to him. 

He gritted his teeth again, as Ithuriel drew from him increasingly, extending his hand, and single finger pointing at the rapidly forming figure of the Angel of Death, the counterpart to Michael, the one who sent souls to hell. Lilith screamed incoherently in a thousand languages at once, conjuring a wall of silver-black flames in front of her charge.

Jonathon responded in kind, pouring himself into Ithuriel - and a burst of pure golden light, exploded from the end of his finger, sweeping the flames aside, like dust in the wind. It was like light from a projector, beaming out, punching holes through Sammael, tearing at his essence mercilessly. His left arm fell off, his holes appearing in his wings as light sizzled through them, like paper under a magnifying glass, the dark feathers falling, bursting into flames in the light, hissing as they turned to ash. The yet to be born Sammael moved his hand to cover his eyes, folding his smouldering wings over him, trying to protect himself from the divine wrath that incinerated what little form he had. 

"NO!" Lilith screeched, screaming, the word dissolving into an indecipherable roar, her teeth lengthening, the flames renewing their assault - all in vain. The fingers and the thumb unrolled from the clenched hand into a full spread hand, the light travelling down the formerly outstretched finger to the centre of the palm, the light intensifying, Jonathon grinding his teeth together, so hard that he thought they would break, his eyes and heart blazing with refulgence, powering the blast.

Sammael let out a blasting rumble that shook the ground once more, the sound only growing louder and more insistent, as his dark presence lessened with every passing moment, the light stripping the symbols from the wall, peeling off the darkness, while simultaneously blocking the spell and reducing its effects. Sparks of light flew from the angel, heat-seeking missiles that slammed into the symbols all over the school, burning them away, preventing the conduit from continuing, preventing the spell from yanking the energy from the humans trapped within.

Lilith turned her attention from the avatar that she couldn't stop, and instead concentrated on the angel she loved, chanting another spell, frantically, mercilessly, hoping that she would get there in time-

Jonathon heard her- and amped up the power. This time he screamed, unable to keep it in any longer, veins popping from beneath his skin all over his body. Ithuriel rumbled in response, and a wall of light smashed into what remained of Sammael, blasting him apart into shadows that were torn apart, reduced to shreds and then turned to dust. 

Ithuriel and Jonathon turned their attention to Lilith, who was still chanting in what sounded like multiple languages simultaneously, none of them younger than three thousand years of age.

He had nearly passed out by now; he could feel everything about him tearing and trembling, being ripped apart by their continued proximity, his very existence trembling on every level.

Instead of doing what he should've done, he did what he had to do instead.

Ithuriel lashed out with a hand, a blazing comet of energy soaring towards the demon Queen, who roared again, and fired her own scream of darkness, like a swarm of flies, engulfing it, slowing it down, but not stopping it completely. A wave of light pounded through the room, tearing through the flecks of darkness, burning through Lilith as she began to fade from sight, causing her to burst into flames and howl, her hair catching fire, her skin peeling and crackling, scrunching up under the heat blowing her backward in a cloud of flames, the body dissolving and vanishing before it even hit the wall. The Eidolon didn't stand a chance, and was vaporised into nothingness, the anti demon wave obliterating it into a pile of dust.

Finally, his head now spinning amongst the stars (they looked unusually bright, true beacons in the night sky), send a wave of healing towards Alyssa and Harrison, knitting their flesh and bone back together, clearing out the rot he found beginning to grow within Harrison, before he blacked out completely, plunging he first into the bottom of a dark pit that was only a short fall. 

His consciousness crashed against the immovable floor and he thought no more.


	53. Sacrifice

Alyssa couldn't run fast enough to get to where he lay.

He was handsome and beautiful at the same time, the two of them existing in his prone body at once, as lay immobile on the ruined floor of the drama hall, the building stable, but in desperate need of a repair crew and a new paint job. 

She didn't even notice it, as she almost skidded along the floor in her haste to get him, only her decades upon decades of experience prevented her from falling flat on her face. Not that she would've cared either way. 

She knelt down next to him, shaking him, slapping his face, possibly harder than she should have, frantically trying to wake him up, hoping that his stillness was not a sign of the only thing she truly feared about this situation. 

"What did you do to him?" she snarled, her eyes flaring with her absolute rage, raising her sword towards the angel who now stood to the side of Jonathon, his glow muted, his wings not flapping at all. Yet he still hovered over the ground, bobbing up and down slowly, his majestic figure still a presence that filled the room, the golden softness so beautiful, his body perfect, his face an masterpiece that would have set many an artist weeping with its perfection - but Alyssa could not have cared less at this point is time.

"I am the Angel of Sacrifice. He sacrificed himself to save you and the others."

"He gave you his life?"

"Freely, and completely. As long as he truly meant it, I could harness his very will and life force, and use it to restore myself, allowing me to smite my brother before he could fully reform, and drive Lilith away, while destroying her minion. I have not met someone so ready to sacrifice himself - the power he gave me was immense."

"But detrimental to him! He's dead!" Alyssa raged, wanting to take a swipe at the angel, and knowing that she couldn't, and shouldn't. 

"He's dying. He is not dead yet. If he had been full Nephilim, this would not have been so difficult for him. But the concentration of demon blood in his body put great strain on his body, mind and spirit. I tried to limit the damage done to him, but it was extensive."

"Then do something! He effectively saved you from becoming Lilith's bitch, and this is how you repay him? If that's heaven's justice, then maybe you're no better than hell!"

Before he could respond, Nate charged through the busted door, jumping over rumble, and Vire, who still lay on the floor, squirming in pain. 

"He's not-"

"Not yet!" Alyssa snapped, still shaking him, starting to mutter in her native faerie tongue, using the little natural magic she knew to try and restore Jonathon back to a semblance of health - or at least consciousness. But nothing was working.

His skin had been blazing hot when she had first reached him, but it was cooling, slowly but surely, his heart beating regularly, but with longer gaps between each thump. 

"So why's pretty boy just floating there, and not doing something?"

"As I was about to say, I cannot heal him. The damage is far to extensive, and I am far too weak. It is taking the majority of my power simply to retain this form. Healing him would possibly destroy me, and there is no guarantee that the power I currently possess will be able to completely restore him fully. And I will not disrespect his sacrifice by half-heartedly replenishing him."

"I don't care!" Alyssa replied sharply, as her spells failed again, ruffling Jonathon's hair and clothes, but totally ineffective to her intentions. "Heal him! Now!"

"If I am to restore him, I will need power."

"Where are you going to get more power from?" Alyssa's eyes were wild and furious. "It's not like we have a divine power plant to plug you into!" 

"Alyssa," Nate said, trying to sound calm. "He's the Angel of Sacrifice. We need to sacrifice something to him." The words hung ominously in the air, before fading away, as Alyssa turned her gaze on the member of the heavenly host once more.

"Is that what you need? A sacrifice? Haven't you already taken enough?"

"I would heal him without an offering if I could."

"But you can't." Her face hardened slightly, and she stood, leaving her boyfriend on the floor.

"So what do you want then?"

She could've swore the angel looked saddened as he spoke.

"A true sacrifice."

"So I have to give you my life?"

"Not necessarily."

"But Jonathon-"

"Jonathon Morgenstern's life was one of the greatest sacrifices he could have given. His rebirth, his redemption, and the way he carved out a new life for himself - for him to offer all of that up to me is one of the greatest sacrifices that he could have given - which is what allowed me to wield my power against Lilith and Sammael, with enough residual to maintain myself afterwards. It was a true sacrifice. I can remember all the times that someone has prayed to me, and offered me a true sacrifice. The results have not always been pleasant, but they have all been spectacular." 

The silence that flowed as the angel fell silent was almost absolute, the last notes of his melodious, heavenly voice fading into nothing. The remains of the destroyed symbols still littered the walls and the ceilings, mocking reminders of a problem that they shouldn't have had to deal with. 

Alyssa wanted to hit something, slice something, to kick and beat down this problem. But none of those solutions would work - and there was no time, no time for an alternative solution. She wasn't even sure what she would've told anyone about his condition, had she had the option. 

What was she willing to give up for Jonathon?

A lot more than I would for most people, she realised. A lot more. 

He cared for her. He had proved it, over and over again, breaking through her initial apprehension and gently easing her way into her heart, a tiny seed that had blossomed into a staggeringly large and fruitful tree. 

He understood her. Not all of her, but more of her than she usually revealed to anyone. And he just accepted her, not questioning much, and loving her all the same.

But it had been when he said her loved her that she had truly been lost in his world. 

The way he had blushed after he had said, and the sincerity in his tone, just after they had made love. Spontaneous, genuine, beautiful.

One of the happiest moments of her long life - and she was a lot older than she appeared. There been other good moments, some with other men, some with other women. But never had any of them made her feel as good as he had made her feel. 

And he was rapidly cooling on the floor behind her. 

Alyssa wasn't going to let that happen. 

Now what was she going to give up?

She could see the gears whirring in Nate's head as he went through what he was going to sacrifice.

"Do we have to verbalise our request?" 

The angel nodded. "At this particular moment in time, I am far too weak to read your minds, or sense your intentions. So yes, you would have vocalise what you wish to offer."

She smiled, and waved a hand at Nate, murmuring a few words, her eyes flaring, not having enough power to restrain him, or make sleep, but more than enough to still his vocal cords, preventing him from doing anything reckless.

He looked over at them, springing to his feet, gesturing wildly at her, his eyes dark and irritated - but overwhelming terrified about what was about to happen.

"Alyssa!"

She turned towards the Seelie Queen, who had managed to drag herself to her feet, holding onto a chair for dear life, her face pale, her hair singed and messy, her perfect skin coated with speckles where flames had peppered her skin, a spray of tiny bullets made of pure energy and ash. 

"Why are you trying to-" She cut herself off, an irregularity for her, and forced herself upward, wincing with the effort. 

"You will not resurrect that enemy of the Seelie Court!"

"I'm not part of the Seelie Court, you ridiculous waste of a sovereign. And I'll do what I damn well please! Now shut the hell up - I'm trying to decide something."

"I have more warriors outside," she snarled. "Just round the corner, waiting to rush in. You can handle yourself well, but you cannot defeat four seasoned warriors and protect your friends by yourself." The ghost of her smile returned to her face, the blue eyes, turning poisonous, and glowing with malice. 

Alyssa raised a hand - and then stopped, returning the smile.

"I almost forgot that Nate was trying to be a martyr. So I'll have to explain myself. My dear Nate here has recorded this entire encounter - and is capable of sending out to the Nephilim and the rest of Faerie Court, both Seelie and Unseelie. What do you think will happen to you if the Children of Raziel, and the Fey Folk find out you've been working side by side with Lilith? Trying to resurrect Sammael?" Alyssa paused, her calm a complete illusion that she maintained through sheer force of will, while she still considered the real problem at hand. She returned her smile with her infamous half crescent of her own, her eyes dancing with a mirth she didn't feel. 

"How long do you think you'll last? And by the way, everything's set on a timer. So if you do try to kill us now, you'll have about an hour to stop anything from being sent - and with no reference point to go on," she added, twisting the knife, "there's no way you're going to be able to avoid this."

"You're bluffing," the Queen began - and then screamed as a knife whipped past her head, burying itself in the wall behind the regent.

"Don't test me. I'm not in the mood," she growled, the last sliver of patience she had, fading into nothingness. "Now either you get out of here, and take your lapdog with you, or I swear I will commit regicide."

The Seelie Queen stared at her for a minute, astounded. What she was more surprised about, no-one but her could tell. Was it the fact that she'd just been threatened with a knife, or had just been held to ransom with such a effortless ease by people she considered complete beneath her status? Could it have to fact that her attempt to outsmart a demon had been so flawlessly subverted, or the fact that she had simply failed again?

In any case, it was irrelevant. 

Her eyes never leaving her rogue subject, she stalked towards the door, barking at Vire, who rose to his feet, swaying from the drunkenness of pain and confusion. 

"And don't even think about saying anything else," she continued, knowing the Queen would want to have the last word. "Or I'll send it out on point of principal."

With one last look; a glare filled with promise and venom, the Queen and her servant left the room, leaving only five of them in the epicentre of all the drama. 

Alyssa knew she had just made a lifelong enemy. But she didn't care. 

Her only problem was still at her feet - but it wasn't going to be a problem for much longer.

She knew what she had to give up. What she would have to sacrifice, to maximise the angel's power, allow him to heal the one she loved. 

It wasn't her life that was most precious to her. She'd been throwing herself into scraps and scrapes all her life, without a second thought, not particularly bothered about the outcome if she didn't win. It wasn't her fighting skills either - although she was absurdly proud of those too. Years had been spent years honing them, perfecting them, mastering the art of war until it was fine, razor sharp edge. Yet that still wasn't it.

So that left only two options.

She wouldn't give up her Nate in exchange for Jonathon. It wasn't an option - and never had been one.

One left. 

The fundamental reason behind most of the change of her life. Why she'd left serving the Courts in the first place, why she'd stopped fighting other people's wars for them, why she'd gone to so much trouble to secrete herself away from the Shadow World, and all she had known and loved behind her. 

"You have decided then."

"I thought that you couldn't read minds in your current condition."

"I cannot. Your expression simply altered - ever so slightly, I might add. Your face is truly masklike. I have been watching mortals for thousands of years. And yes, even though you are not of their race, you share similar changes in response to different emotions- I see you are not interested."

"No."

The angel looked at her, the full force of his weakened gaze more than the average person could bear.

She stared straight back, unfalteringly and completely unforgiving. 

"So what is it that you will sacrifice?"

The next words fell from her mouth heavily, poisonous and anathema to her - but when she thought of what they might bring, she could taste the tiniest hint of honey. The smallest portion of hope.

"I give up my free will."


	54. Rehashing

The air trembled, and rippled as the words registered deep within in, resonating from the weight of the truthfulness and conviction behind them activated the innate abilities possessed the Angel of Sacrifice. 

Nate leapt at her, but she dodged, and tripped him, catching him as he fell, and pinning him beneath her knee, as he struggled furiously, knowing that was exactly what Jonathon would have wanted him to do, his own desires and his best friend's boyfriend's being one and the same in that moment. 

And then he froze, completely paralysed by the motion Ithuriel made with his hand, as some of his power came back to him - a mere approximation of the entire thing.

Alyssa wouldn't look at her friend as she got off of him.

"You do understand what this means?" the angel inquired, his voice stronger, clearer and pure, the gravity and power returning to it as he absorbed the mere thought of the sacrifice.

"I'll have to do whatever anyone else tells me to do. I'll will be told exactly what to do, and when, were and how to do it."

"You do know this extends to eating and sleeping?"

She visibly shuddered at the thought, losing a little bit of her composure at the implications. 

"Yeah. I do."

Ithuriel shook his head in awe. "For such a member of such a proud, haughty race to relinquish her free will to save someone else, especially one who is so closely associated with the human race... It is truly unheard of, and unthinkable. You Earthborn creatures are so unpredictable."

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "Well? Do you accept?"

"I do. But firstly, we must set a time limit on this sacrifice."

The angel smiled as her face and body visibly relaxed. "You honestly did not think that I would keep your free will bound for all eternity? To do so would be an affront to Heaven. More importantly, that is Valentine's son on the floor. If I strip you of your individuality indefinitely, he will find a way to punish me for it."

"Jonathon would respect any agreement I had made."

"The child of Morgenstern loves you deeply. He would find me wherever I am, and drag me back to undo whatever I had done to you. He may even try to once this transaction his complete."

"Hold off taking my will until I can explain what's going on to him. So how long will I need to lose my individuality for?"

"A year should suffice."

She sighed. Three hundred and sixty five days - without being able to make any decisions of her own. 

Giving people that much power over her terrified her. A soundless, unspeakable terror that had crawled out the pit of the pits, that had tormented her for her whole life. She hated to be in a weak position, which was one of the reasons why she had trained so hard, and risen to be one of the elite warriors of her time. But most of all, she had never been a blind follower. She had not always led, but she had never followed. Her own will, her determination, her ability to make decisions were all things that she had hung onto for dear life, no matter what else had happened to her.

She'd given them up once before - and regretted it so poignantly that she had vowed never to do it again.

Yet here she was again, about to take an even greater leap in the unknown. And a more permanent one as well. To break it- No, she wouldn't even consider that. 

There was no point of denying it. It was time to get on with it. 

Alyssa stared into the angel's golden eyes, and took in the sad smile on his face.

"Remember, give me some time to explain. Or else they'll be trouble."

"Never fear. I have not forgotten. The last thing I wish to do is irritate a Morgenstern."

"He's not that bad."

"He has the potential to be."

"Exactly. The potential."

Ithuriel smiled, the expression turning his already handsome face more serene than humanly possible.

"Do you, Alyssa, give me your will?" 

"I do. Freely and completely."

The invisible gong sounded, the room shaking as the sacrifice filled with air, Ithuriel's heart blazing with an even purer light now, an unending, shining beacon that spread along his entire body, firstly with tiny snaking threads, all the way up to the end of his fingers and toes, veining their way to the tips of his wings and all of his feathers, before spreading out linking together, so bright that Alyssa had to cover her eyes, shielding herself from the blinding sheet of light in front of her, that seemed to go on and on, before fading abruptly. 

The room however, did not fade back to the darkness that pervaded it before the angel had lit up.

His glow remained, stronger and steadier than before, his wings even larger than they'd been before, his muscles even more well defined, his face truly regal, everything about him shining and sparkling. 

"Thank you, Alyssa. You have restored me. And now I shall restore what is yours."

With a wave of his hand, Ithuriel sent a wave of golden light pouring down on Jonathon. He jerked slightly, twitching as if he was in great discomfort, a soft sheen settling over him as the power sank into him, healing him with deft touch and care that truly a sight to behold.

Alyssa watched, a smile crossing her face, as she walked over to him, and sat him up, propping him on her shoulder, his head resting against her neck, as his eyes started to flutter open. 

She knew he wouldn't forgive for this. 

But she didn't care. At least they were still together.

..............................................................................................

Jonathon's head was spinning. 

It had been dark. Not unpleasantly so, more a calm, peaceful darkness, as if he was going to sleep in the countryside - without all the wildlife. It was lovely, relaxing and he just felt himself slipping deeper and deeper within, sliding down a shallow slope ever so slowly. It was quiet, serene and in its own way, insanely, innately beautiful. 

Nothingness. An abyss that was not terrifying or even remotely perturbing; it was quiet, silent expanse that he simply could not see the end of. He could sense himself, he couldn't even see himself. None of that mattered.

So the golden speck of light caught his attention instantly. 

It expanded rapidly blasting out over the horizon, a new sun born at the start of a new solar system. 

And suddenly, it hurt. He scrunched himself up, the pain shooting through his body, like someone was pulling barbed wire through his veins instead of blood. But it quickly faded, the feeling vanishing into nothingness, as he quickly started to feel better than he had felt in ages, light and happy, the golden light blinding him entirely, but not in a way that overpowered him.

He heard someone calling him, the sound clear and audible, so familiar, so welcome.

"Jonathon Morgenstern. If you don't wake up now, I'm going to wake you up."

Wake up? Was he asleep?

"Jonathon." 

Something about her tone, the way that she said his name, made him feel like he was sitting up, and as he did, he felt as if he was pulling himself out of molasses, breaking through the thick, near solid blanket that covered him with great effort.

And then he was free, flying towards-

His eyes opened, his heart beating faster than usual - and yet his arms and legs felt devoid of energy, unable to move. He still felt good, but it was a gradual feeling that was still spreading towards the rest of his body from his head. His head rested on a familiar collarbone, and he smelt a scent that he knew better than anything else.

"Alyssa..."

"Don't , Jon. You took a real number in the last battle. Saved us all, but nearly killed yourself doing so. I warned you that I'd kill you if you died. But I can't do that in the state that you're in. It wouldn't be right."

She supported him with one arm while she kissed him, Jonathon just about managing to return to kiss as passionately as she gave it to him. 

"You were dying. You gave your life as an offering to Ithuriel, and destroyed Sammael. And Lilith, I think. But in doing so, you gave too much of yourself away."

"So... How?" he managed to get out, slowly, dragging himself through the motions of speaking. 

"I made my own deal with the Angel of Sacrifice. Which is my business, by the way. So you need to promise me that you will not strike down Ithuriel, or summon him back, or attack him at all."

"What did you-"

"I'm not going to tell you until you promise not to do anything to change this. It's not ideal - but it's healing you - and restoring Ithuriel," she added as an afterthought, stroking his hair and his face gently. "Just trust me. I really need you to just trust me. Like I'm trusting you."

Jonathon suddenly found that there was a hole in his stomach, and despite the healing magic that was making him feel good, a icy wind blew through him, squeezing his heart, his soul. 

"Trust me, Jon. Please."

Please. A word that she had said to him before, but never with the earnestness that she said it now. 

"I promise, Alyssa. On my honour as a Shadowhunter. On my honour as a warrior. And because I love and trust you."

She sighed. "I gave up my free will. For a year."

Despite his weakness, he suddenly found himself facing his girlfriend, looking at her intensely, seeing the horror in his face reflected in his eyes. She laughed, half-heartedly.

"Don't look at me like that. It was all I had left to bargain with. And the reason I did it is because I know I can trust you to not take advantage of me while I'm not in full control of myself."

"Al-" he began, tearing up, unable to help himself, knowing that she was giving up a major part of her personality. 

For him. 

Her attitude, her biting wit, her sarcasm, her jokes, her free will, everything that made her who she was - gone. 

"Don't, Jon. Don't. Don't look at me like that. You're only going to have to put up with this for a year." She buried her face in his shoulder, an unusually vulnerable expression of emotion for her.

He held her to him, as the golden light around him, intensified, and spread to her, making her stiffen slightly. 

"I won't let anything happen to you. I won't - I promise. I just wish I had longer."

"We will. After all this is done."

"Al-"

"Just hold me, you idiot."

He buried his head in her hair, as the two of them gained a bond that transcended space and time - an irreplaceable, inexplicable trust that was more than simple physical contact, as the humming that they had subconsciously blocked out, unconsciously creating the silence that rushed away, the two of them finally noticing the light that still filled the room. 

All they could mainly see and hear and feel, however were each other. Heartbeats, the rustling of clothing, breathing, their hands on each other, knowing that two of them would not be like this again for three hundred and sixty five days. Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred and twenty five thousand, six hundred hours. Five hundred and twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty one million, five hundred and thirty six hundred thousand seconds. 

They knew that would be unconsciously counting every single one. 

And then the light became blinding, and Jonathon felt himself be filled with power of heaven, full healing him - while sending a stabbing pain through him as it reacted to the demonic presence within him. 

It was so intense, so potent, so sharp, that it sliced through him with mixture of ice and fire that knocked him clean out.

...............................................................................................

Jonathon woke up a few minutes later, his body and head aching - and was surprised to see Ithuriel staring down at him. 

"I apologise. The energy of the sacrifice surged through me, and was unable to manoeuvre round the demonic part of you to heal you without suffering. Are you well?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine..." Something important flickered in the back of his memory-

He sat up and sprang to his feet, spinning round in a circle so fast that it almost made his head spin. 

She was nowhere - but Nate was on the floor, out cold. 

And Harrison was gone as well. 

He turned to the angel, a dark fury rising within him, a heady mixture of love, hatred, possessiveness and the desire to protect her all clashing in one.

"He took her. She had no choice but to follow his commands."

"And why didn't you stop him?" Jonathon replied, his tone so light that it was poisonous to listen to. 

"Heaven is not meant to intervene in mortal affairs. But he did order her to carry him to his home. He was still rather bruised, battered and weak - he was incapable of getting there alone. They left not more than half an hour ago."

Jonathon nodded, once, slowly, and pointedly. He hadn't had enough energy to heal both Alyssa and Harrison completely, so he'd focused more on his girlfriend. Naturally. But he'd had enough to drag him away from his steady march towards death. Because that was the right thing to do. The angelic thing to do. The human thing. The kind thing.

He'd wished that he'd listened to his demonic side. 

"Ithuriel. Could you-"

"I will clean up here, yes. The mortals and even your brethren, the Shadowhunters, will never suspect what truly went on here tonight."

"Thank you."

With that, Jonathon murmured a word, and Nate jerked back into consciousness, his eyes wide - and then furious. 

The two of them looked at each other, collected their things, and left the room in a sprint, neither of them acknowledging the angel as they did.

The Angel of Sacrifice simply extended his wings, and vanished in a flash of light that cleansed the buildings of all demonic traces and symbols, while repairing the parts of the school that had been damaged in the fight.

As the ringing noise faded, and the light dissipated, silence reigned supreme once more.


	55. The Brink

"Put me down. Please."

She lowered him into the chair - and then stood there waiting for her next command, her face screwed up with disgust. 

"Stop looking at me like that."

She turned her head to the side, but her face didn't change in the slightest. 

"No - look at me, but change your expression!"

Her face turned, and her expression changed. From disgust to anger, an icy rage that promised pain and misery.

"Not like that! Smile - a nice one." There was a pause, and then the words came, bitter and reluctant. 

"Like the ones you give Jonathon."

Unbidden, the smile rose to her face, the half curve of her lips that she kept for a select few appearing on her face with such reluctance - and yet she couldn't express it at all. 

"God... this is so weird. I- I don't know. Can you sit down, next to me?" 

A command, phrased as a nice question. She hated him so much at that point. A burning, wrathful cauldron of poisonous lead that bubbled in her gut, that poured out, scalding her blood vessels - and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it.

She sat down next to him, as far as way as possible, as he hadn't specified how close they had to be to each other. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice.

He had called her over, after the final blast had gone through the room, knocking Jonathon clean out, and knocking everyone else over. The angel had been a pure source of light, wings outstretched, flickering in and out of existence as he tried to control the power that surged through him. Since he already been pressed up against the tiered stands of chairs, he was only pressed against the hard surface behind him, hurting him, but not affecting him like it did to the other two people in the room. 

He didn't know why he had done what he had done next.

He had called her. And she had come. 

It was... something. 

Euphoric? He wasn't sure. Intoxicating? Possibly. But then Nate had gotten up, and called after her - and he had told her to knock him out. 

And she had. 

The next thing he knew, he had been in her arms, her strong muscular arms, and she was carrying him home like a baby.

Now they were here. Together.

He turned to her, while she stared pointedly at him, unable to do anything else than to sit and look at him, the smile frozen on her face. 

"Well, let's begin then, shall we?"

................................................................................................... 

Jonathon didn't have to ask the specifics of what had happened. It wasn't particularly difficult to work out. 

Harrison had obviously heard that Alyssa had given up her free will to save him - and had forced her to run off with him, knocking out Nate so that he couldn't interfere. 

The thought of it invoked a rage that he had never felt before.

Angel, demon and human were all in perfect alignment, all three of them baying for blood.

He'd left Nate far behind sailing down the roads with lightning speed, invisibly dodging through traffic and jumping over things that didn't get out of his way. Everyone knew where Harrison's house was - he couldn't shut up about how great it was.

Being fully healed hadn't completely restored his energy, but Ithuriel had obviously given him a little top up, as he wasn't feeling as tired as he should've been. 

He didn't know how far Nate was behind him, but he was glad that wasn't close. What was potentially going to happen to Harrison wasn't something Nate should witness. It was one thing witnessing a demon tearing someone to shreds. 

It was another to watch your best friend do that to someone. 

Only one other thing ran through his mind as he pounded down the streets. 

He'd promised to keep her safe. The one thing she had asked him to do. The only thing she asked him to do, other than to honour her agreement to Ithuriel.

One thing. One little thing. 

And he'd failed already. 

Another spike of rage coursed through him, and he sailed over the ground, his strides bouncing him across the earth, his shoes barely absorbing the shockwaves that vibrated up his body, but he simply didn't care.

He was locked onto to his target - and his was closing in. 

Reaching the Evefield home, he didn't even stop. He charged towards the wall, and sailed over it with an elegant flip - just remembering as he was halfway in the air that they might be something on the other side. 

And he didn't care. 

Even so, the logical side of him made him land briefly on the wall, taking in the entire scene with just a glance, before using the momentum to continue, adding in just a little more, allowing him to fly over the tree, that he would've crashed into, had he not stopped for but a second. 

Landing on the perfectly trimmed and almost manicured lawn, he stood up almost instantly, taking in the ornate garden. A fountain with a statue in the middle of it, spewing water that trickled down quietly, the tinkling, dripping sound seeming pretentious somehow. The shaped hedges, the clipped rose bushes, the multi coloured flowerbeds, the smell of compost and freshly turned soil mixing underneath the stronger aroma of the flowers.

Looking up at the house, Jonathon started towards it, idly musing that it wasn't as ornate as some of Valentine's houses, his eyes scornfully raking over the slightly overdone building. 

There were no lights on. 

His fists clenched, and a low growl emitted from his throat and chest, barely sounding human. 

And then he heard it. 

Just a whisper on the breeze. Just the merest hint of sound that could've been missed if it wasn't so silent, but now that he'd heard it, he simply couldn't block it out anymore - not that he wanted to.

Jonathon turned towards the outhouse that he initially overlooked - and then realised with a start what it was.

Harrison's personal home.

He'd heard about it, of course. Everyone had heard the story. It was impossible to avoid. It looked exactly as he everyone had described it - well maintained, spacious, a home away from home - that had a faint light coming from the behind the curtain. 

Which was where the voice was coming from. Male, low, speaking to someone in... He couldn't quite pick out the emotion from so far away. 

But it certainly wasn't a neutral tone.

His brain kicked into overdrive as the demon and the angel surged forward once more, one demanding that he exact divine judgement on his foe, while to other wanted to tear into the person who dared steal what was his. 

Either way, Harrison was in trouble. 

Jonathon suddenly was in front of the door - and he kicked it hard, snapping the lock and the wood around it in with more force than he needed to. It flew open, the metal lock crashing to the floor, splinters flying everywhere. 

Taking a single step, he looked around the little house, and saw Harrison sitting on the sofa, a glass of what looked and smelled like bourbon. He looked around, meeting his eyes, and recoiling as he saw the expression on Jonathon's face. 

He opened his mouth and began to push himself upward. And then his bourbon dropped on the ground, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces, drowning out the slosh of the liquid on the floor, as Jonathon grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the floor. Harrison grabbed at his arm, trying to break his grip as his legs dangled from the ground, kicking at him weakly. 

Jonathon watched his features slacken and his movements lessening as the oxygen was cut off from his body. Just as his eyes began to roll back up, Jonathon tossed him to one side sending sliding across the floor, crashing into the chairs and table, shifting them across, the scraping sound grating on his ears. 

Harrison groaned, and tried to weakly get to his feet, managing to rise to her hands and knees. 

"Please, Jonathon-"

Magic gripped him, pulling him to his feet - allowing Jonathon perfect access to his face. The punch sent him reeling, his face and head swerving to the side, his body following behind him, sending him spinning round his legs flicking out from under him, his normally strong body crashing to the ground once more. 

He curled up into a ball, pain stinging him like a swarm of hornets - before he went flying across the room again, back into the sofa, slamming into it hard, the softness cushioning the blow, tipping it backward, dumping him back on the floor. 

Jonathon watched him attempt to crawl away, a dark satisfaction rising within him, as he stalked over to his prey, and flipped him over with one foot, before leaning down and seizing the front of what remained of his shirt, and dragged him upward, off the ground, and slammed him into the wall, hard - but not hard enough to knock him out. 

"Jonathon, listen-"

"Shut. Up." He heard his voice from a distance. It was hard and frosty, filled with a darkness and menace that could only be achieved by those who were near being beyond reason. 

Harrison ended his word with a squawk, swallowing it. 

"So. Let me get this straight. You are stupid enough to - How did you hook up with a demon anyway?"

"She- It came to me, here-" he stuttered attempting the get out the words. Jonathon made a zipping motion with his fingers, and he shut up again, bound by his magic.

"So you were probably seduced by her. And you took everything some random girl that appeared out of nowhere to you to heart, and did exactly what she said. For what? Because she made me feel really, really good?"

Despite himself, a red blush appeared on Harrison's face - but his eyes held something more.

Jonathon knew, of course. He just wanted to prolong this. 

"And because... Oh. I remember. Because you thought I was entrancing the entire year, and stealing your popularity."

He leaned in, his face inches away from his foe's.

" You know you nearly killed everyone in school, right? And possibly endangered the rest of the planet as well. But we managed to stop that from happening. Which nearly killed us. And then you have to the nerve -" He cut himself off, as his fist clenched tighter into the boy's shirt, trying to control himself.

"You have the audacity to use Alyssa's sacrifice against her. To force her to come back here with you, to do who knows what. She help save you, YOU FUCKING GUTTER SCUM!" 

Harrison tried to flinch away - but he couldn't move. Jonathon had him exactly where he wanted him, and he wasn't going anywhere. 

Not until he had finished with him. 

"I knew you were pathetic - but this? It goes so far beyond pathetic that I don't even think there's a word for it!"

"I haven't done anything to her!" Harrison said, his voice getting higher with each word. "I just wanted to talk!"

"Really?" Jonathon growled, just holding himself in check, his entire body just waiting to let go of the all consuming rage that was building inside him.

"I'd never do that do her!" Tears formed in Harrison's eyes, formed of fear, hate and jealousy - but most of all fear, the brown seemingly shifting in wave pattern as the water gathered. "I just wanted to know why she hated me so much! Why she ignored me for all the time I've known her - and then just falls into your arms when you swan in out of nowhere. I know I shouldn't have-"

And then a cry of pain as Jonathon's fist collided with his cheek, and then his stomach, the two blows in quick, wrathful succession. 

"That's the first sensible thing you've said tonight. You shouldn't have."

"Jonathon, please- I didn't-"

"I promised to protect her. I promised. It's not even been a day yet - and I've already failed. She gave her free will. Her ability to make decisions for herself, her individuality, to save me." His eyes were soulless vacuums, observing the bleeding, whimpering teenager in front of him, and not caring in the slightest. To say he couldn't care less was simply not enough. 

What he would have done next, he would never know. 

"Jon! She's fine, she's okay! Alyssa's fine!"

Nate's voice cut through the maroon and black haze that boiled around him. 

"Let him go, Jon. There's been enough death tonight. I've got her."

He turned his head, not relaxing his grip in the slightest. 

She stood there, her usual look on her face - except for something that only he could perceive. A vulnerability, a faint crack in the impregnable wall that hit him like physical blow, sending such a ripple of discomfort down his spine that he wanted to curl into a ball and cry himself.

He turned back to Harrison, who recoiled seemingly trying to force himself through the wall than to face whatever look was on his face.

"If there's a next time, Harrison," he spat his name like a curse, "it'll be your last."

With that he moved , landing blows with his fists, elbows, feet and knees like a hail storm - unpredictable, rapid and relentless. He kept it up for ten seconds before seizing the dazed boy with one hand, and sliding him across the floor, and into the wall, where he lay crumpled and broken. 

With that, he left, following in the footsteps of Nate and Alyssa, who had gone by the time he had finished his assault, leaving the destruction behind him, along with a single fractured pool of water that shone in the weak light, born of the famous couple known as love and heartbreak.


	56. Erased

The trio sat in Jonathon's house, despondently staring at nothing in particular. 

They had won - and fortunately, none of them were dead. 

But Alyssa just wasn't Alyssa anymore. 

She sat quietly, only speaking when spoken to, only giving her opinions when she was specifically asked to. There was none of her biting wit, none of her well natured, expected sarcasm, nothing that indicated that it was Alyssa still in front of them, and not an empty shell. She occasionally manged facial expressions - and even they stopped if one of them looked at her too hard.

In some ways it was worse than death.

"So you're going to be like this for a entire year?" Nate's voice was incredulous and irritated all in one, somehow communicating the two differing emotions equally. 

"Yes."

The word was an answer - an answer that hurt both of them in some man different ways. The finality of the word, knowing that there no way to break the spell. The fact that the one of most charismatic people had been reduced to something that almost worse than death - at least her ghost would have had a personality. 

And the way she said the word itself, empty of emotion, devoid of anything that resembled feeling, a simple, robotic, clinical response that stabbed at them, making Nate get up and have to walk into the passage, while Jonathon just clenched his fist. 

He came back, running a hand down the side of his face. 

"What the hell are we going to do, Jon? She can't go to school like this. She just can't. Hell, she can't even go out like this."

"I know. Don't worry, I know what we're going to do about this."

There was silence, and then Nate spoke again.

"So?"

"Alyssa and I are going to have to go away for the year."

Another moment of silence. 

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Nate, if there was any other way-"

"I know. I know. But there isn't, is there?"

"None at all."

Nate laughed bitterly. "So this the reward for the people who just saved Heaven and Earth? One loses free will, the next becomes a caretaker, and the last one loses his two best friends? So much for all that punishing the wicked and rewarding the just crap! Is God even real?" he finished vehemently, kicking at the doorframe in frustration. "This isn't fair!"

"Angels exist. Demons exist. Whether God exists or not is left up to debate. The angels always speak of serving Heaven - but is that the same as serving God? We don't know, and we're too busy fighting demons to follow it up. Then there's the whole smiting thing. In that respect demons are more reasonable than angels. They'd hear you out before they kill you."

"Jonathon, so help me-"

"Yeah, I know it isn't fair. But what are we going to do about it? I promised we wouldn't summon Ithuriel. We can't summon Raziel safely. Any other angel would blast first, and not bother to ask questions later. And doing deals with demons would come at high price, especially since we just slammed the gate on Sammael's triumphant return. Or even if they were happy about it, there would be something to pay. Something that they'd probably take or call in at the most inconvenient time. And I doubt anything from a warlock or a faerie could affect magic at this level."

"So there's no other option?"

"None at all." Jonathon sighed heavily. "If there was, I'd have taken it."

"I know you would've. So, where are you going?"

"Far enough from civilisation to keep her safe - but close enough so that we're not scrutinised, and still have internet access. My father's house in Switzerland."

"Where didn't your father have a house? And I'm not talking about Turkmenistan here."

"He had a lot of fixed homes and boltholes, as well as the moving apartment - before Clary destroyed it. But the Swiss one is the oldest one. It was the home of the first Morgensterns." 

"Will the two of you be safe there? I mean if it's your original family home, won't the other Shadowhunters know about it?" 

"No. Warded beyond belief, on maps under a different name, nobody but family, trusted friends, and staff who lived and died on the manner. But when they moved away, they left in care of servants, who were well paid to keep in order - until my father killed them so he had another hidey-hole all to himself."

"Your family sounds paranoid."

"It's hereditary. And they tended to make a lot of enemies. So it was necessary. Anyway, it'll be the perfect place for Alyssa until she recovers."

They both looked at her, while she stared blankly ahead, knowing that it was going to an extremely difficult year that lay ahead of them. 

"When are you leaving?"

"As soon as possible. I've just to write a note from our parents saying that we're being withdrawn from the school, as a result of the incident that just happened." He gave a reluctant smile. "Which is true."

"Will I see you before that?"

"Probably not. I'm not leaving her alone for a second longer than I have to."

"So this is goodbye then."

Jonathon said the word with a casual nonchalance that he didn't feel. "Yeah." 

He simply didn't trust himself to say anything else. 

"Can I have a moment with Alyssa?"

"Sure." Jonathon rose to his feet tiredly, the ache that plagued him settled deep within his heart; gnawing him with a dread anticipation for the rest of the year - and for what he had already lost. 

Despite everything, he had lost his first home. 

As soon as the realisation hit him, his crossed his arms tightly, and lowered his head, far too sad to even think about crying. 

His home and his girlfriend in one go. 

Nate was right. Heaven and Hell weren't so different after all. Both were self serving, using people and throwing them to the side without a second thought. 

Even though she had volunteered for her fate and saved him in the process, Jonathon still wished that it could be different. 

He didn't even hear Nate come up to him and place his hand on his shoulder. 

"Jon."

He turned to his first true friend, the best friend that he had grown to appreciate in such a short span of time.

They hugged, a rough embrace, as Nate tried to squeeze the life out of him.

"I'll be back, Nate. I promise. "

"You'd better be. I'll be coming out to see you when she's back to normal."

"I promise that I'll send you the address."

Nate looked Jonathon directly in the eye.

"I know I don't need to say this, but I will anyway. Take good care of her."

"I will."

His dark haired friend turned away without ceremony or hesitation, and headed towards the door not looking behind him once. As he passed through the doorway for what could be the last time, Jonathon felt his heart sink even further, knowing that it would be him soon. The soft click of the lock solidified the realisation, and he sighed. 

It was time to move on.

Returning to the kitchen, he took in his girlfriend in one look. She was almost as beautiful as ever. Her hair was still the colour of a dark blue, near black midnight and gleamed in the light. Her skin remained the regal colour of orichalcum, taut over her well proportioned muscles, and her eyes still gleamed silver, white and green. 

But her spark, her life, the part of her that made her so fascinating to him was gone. 

He would wait though. For the year. For her to return to him. 

"Are you hungry?" 

"No."

Jonathon resisted the urge to wince at the emptiness in her tone. 

"Right, I'll be back in a minute. We're going to take a plane to Switzerland - I just need to go and check when the flights are. Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?"

She looked at him for a long moment, before shaking her head, slowly and deliberately, her eyes vulnerable - and to his utter surprise, a quivering lip, as if she were about to burst in tears. Her eyes were completely dry, but the lapse in her iron defence made his heart just about stop. 

He was over by her in a second, his protective instincts overwhelming everything else, even his sorrow, as he held her tight, letting her silently burrow into him, as he hugged her to him, letting her know that he would always be there for her, no matter how much it hurt him to see her like this. 

They stayed in the embrace for a long time, until 

"I'll bring my laptop down here. I promise I won't be long. And then we'll pack my stuff, and go to your place and pack you stuff. We'll be out of here in no time. I promise. Is that okay?"

She nodded into his chest, as he let go of her, and they turned away together - unable to look the other in the eye, knowing that it wouldn't be beneficial for either of them. 

Jonathon managed to keep his composure until he left the room - and then ran up the stairs with the light footsteps of a deer, cursing Lilith, Sammael, the Seelie Queen, Ithuriel, and Fate, (if there were such a thing) all at the same time, wishing a thousand horrible misfortunes on all of them. Ithuriel probably didn't deserve it, a single part of him reasoned, but he simply couldn't have cared less. 

There would be no forgiveness for what had happened to her.

.............................................................................................

Twenty four hours later, they stood outside of a large mansion, that looked as if it had seen better days. 

But as with most things associated with Shadow World, initial looks were always an illusion. 

Jonathon took Alyssa's hand, and led her forward, placing his hand on the door handle for exactly ten seconds, before releasing it with a whispered word. Bolts and locks sounded from the other side of the solid piece of wood, and the handle turned of its own accord, swing open silently and slowly, revealing a house that was both beautiful and austere at the same time. 

Carved, wooden banisters, marble floors, a small balcony opposite the door, with twin staircases leading up to it, the pathways from either side of the perch leading deeper in the depths of the house. Everything was surprisingly clean, and preternaturally still, the lamps flickering on - a mixture of electrical and magical - as they moved towards the staircase. 

"We'll be safe here. You want to go and choose a room? There are loads of nice ones - if a bit ostentatious."

She didn't reply, and simply looked at him, and empty, hollow look in her eyes. 

He attempted not to punch himself very, very hard.

"Please go up and choose any bedroom that you see fit."

Her struggle to give him a smile made him want to summon Lilith from whether she had been banished to, and set her alight with holy fire.

Wanting to hit something, and knowing that it would do him no good, he went into the kitchen, and put down the bags of shopping that he had bought, and started to put away the foodstuffs he had bought for the two of them, slowly and methodically, keeping his boiling well of emotions at a well tempered simmer. 

He didn't want to upset her anymore than she already was.

..............................................................................

Dinner was a relatively silent affair, both unpleasant and pointed at the same time. 

As they finished, and he politely asked her to go to bed, he stayed for a little longer, washing up, although he could've done it later. 

Finding things to do was the only way he was going to make it through. 

But he knew something, instinctively, something that no-one would be able to convince him wasn't true. 

This was going to be the worst year of his life.


	57. Restored

'Baby do you know what that's worth?  
Heaven is a place of earth  
They say in heaven, love comes first  
We'll make heaven a place on Earth  
Ooo, Heaven is a place of Earth!"

Jonathon had never disagreed more with a song, as he walked through the store. 

Hell was place on Earth. Not Heaven. 

The days had rolled into weeks, the weeks piling atop each other to form months. An age, it seemed, as if Chronos had dragged his fingers through tar, and wiped it on the wheels of time, the thick, dark substance slowing the ever spinning cogs that measured measure the lifespan of everything.

He had stopped counting months ago, and simply took every day as it came, trying desperately to keep it together, for both of their sakes. 

Ordering around the woman he loved as if she were a robot was intensely difficult and so uncomfortable that he wanted to cringe every time he had to do it. 

He had found some ways around it, though, by giving her orders that would last indefinitely, while giving scope to them so that she could at least have some semblance of free will. 

So for example, she had been told to shower or bathe every morning and every night, for a time period ranging between five minutes and hour. Yet when it hadn't worked the next morning, Jonathon realised that he had to be even more specific. 

Once he specified the times between which she could bathe, and what she could do while she was bathing, as well as what she could use, the command worked like a charm, and he no longer had to instruct her to do so every time he woke up. 

Jonathon didn't sleep well, worried that she would wake up in the middle of the night, need something, and be completely unable to get it. He'd woken up on morning to find her sleeping on the floor, unable to clamber back onto the bed because there had been no-one to tell her to do so.

Eventually, they had most things worked out, and they could even spar together without too much difficulty. 

Even that wasn't enough. 

Other than when Jonathon spoke to her, Alyssa didn't speak. She couldn't initiate a conversation, no matter what he told her to do, and would only offer her opinion when it was asked of her. It was almost as if it such an expression of choice that the compulsion placed on her simply would not allow it to be broken, no matter how he phrased it, or how many time he asked her to. 

So the house was mainly silent, with her generally either training, reading, watching TV, or sometimes, simply sitting looking blankly into the distance. Whether she was desolately sad or incredibly rage filled was beyond his ability to divine - and he didn't want to ask her, for fear of invading her privacy without her having any option but to respond. 

They couldn't even go out much, as she would respond to any command given to her, even when though he had told her not to. While eating in a restaurant, she had been approached by a leery, slightly drunk tourist, who had had leery suggested to her that she bite him. 

So she had.

Alyssa had bitten him with the relish of a wolf, blood pouring out from around where she had sunk her teeth into him. Jonathon had hissed at her to get up, and ushered themselves out of there as quickly as possible - to cheers, surprisingly, as the man in question had been making a nuisance of himself for a while by then. Yet the risk of something more deadly or unpleasant had crossed his mind, and they didn't go out much after that. 

Sex was an absolute no go area. Neither of them had even broached the topic - what was the point? The two of them liked spontaneous sessions, when neither of them knew what the other had in store. It was completely impossible in this case - and Jonathon wouldn't even entertain the idea. Even kissing was off the table - it was something that required feeling, something that she simply couldn't muster at this moment. 

So the most they got out of each other were hugs. Long hugs where the two of them would simply sit next to each other, knowing that this was the closest they would get to intimacy for the year. 

Nate was an invaluable friend to both of them, sending them emails separately, knowing that that both experiencing the situation in two completely different things. 

One of the first things that he had sent them were the links to a plethora of articles about what had happened at their school. It had been passed off as an incident that no-one could explain, and the students had all had an extra long summer holiday while inspections were done into why the entire school body had collapsed. Gas and sewage pipes were checked, as well as all the food and drink of the night. Samples were taken from all the students - and yet no-one could find a trace of anything. 

With some trepidation, the school reopened in September, and when everything had been quiet for a month, all interest died, and business resumed as usual. 

There were some strange people hanging around later that night though, Nate had written. I went back to school to see if everyone was alright, and it looked like your race, the Shadowhunters, had caught wind of something strange going on. They were invisible, but thanks to the two of you, I could see had hear them. Managed to get close enough to learn that they knew something demonic had gone on, but having no idea what it was, or why the readings that they had been getting earlier on were now non-existent. They were literally scratching their heads, and eventually just decided to keep an eye on it. 

Harrison's still really shaken by the whole thing. He has to keep the whole thing to himself - and I can see it's killing him. He keeps looking at me, as if I'm supposed to give him an explanation. But he's quietened down a lot - which makes things strangely uninteresting, especially without the two of you around. 

Everyone keeps asking me where the two of you have gone - and I just say that your parents withdrew you after the incident, not wanting to risk your health, especially with such a dubious, unresolved incident. A couple of other parents have withdrawn their children as well, so it's not too farfetched. But some of them think you eloped, or something. You know how it is with schools. 

Jonathon did. And while reading the messages did help with the piercing loneliness and discomfort he felt her, it was also a reminder of what him and Alyssa had had to give up.

As he had thought, it was going to be a long, long year. 

.........................................................................................................

The freezing cold of the Swiss winter rolled into the warmth of spring, and finally into the brighter calm of the longer summer days. 

And before he knew it, it was the same day that it had been when Alyssa had no longer been Alyssa.

He woke up with hope in his heart, an flare of energy, a ray of light seeming to touch the inner recesses of mind as he sat up, unable to contain his excitement. 

"Are you back to normal today?" he asked her, shaking her awake with the enthusiasm of a small child on Christmas day. 

She woke up, bleary eyed - and simply shook her head, not able to say the way no. Jonathon tried not to look crestfallen, but he simply couldn't help it. It had been a year, three hundred and sixty five days of unhappiness for the two of them, and he had simply hoped that it would end today, and that they could've gone back to way things had been before. 

Managing to plaster a smile on his face, they continued as they had done for every other day of the year. Yet every order he gave hurt him more than usual, the robotic way she spoke and moved made him want to cry, and the general lack of life about her made her want to summon Ithuriel, no matter how much he had promised not to. 

He was so frustrated throughout the day that he was forced to keep his face neutral, so that he didn't upset Alyssa more than she already was. But it was such a chore, such a enormous, all consuming task to do so, that he was drained of most of his energy by the end of the day. Frustrated, they climbed into bed together, and he spun over, facing away from her, silently vowing the summon Ithuriel and- Well, he didn't know what he was going to do. The demon part of him and Sebastian's memories were giving him some pretty sadistic, inventive ideas, while his angel side balked at the suggestions. He fell asleep with the two of the warring, thinking how damn unfair life was.

But there was no need for him to worry. 

Celestial time was as exacting as the celestial beings. When Ithuriel had said a year, he had meant exactly a year. A cycle of three hundred and sixty five days. Or eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred and twenty five thousand and six hundred minutes. Thirty one million, five hundred and thirty six thousand seconds. 

As the very last second passed, a soft golden light enveloped Alyssa, floating off her in golden particles, and she awoke in a instant, hearing the murmur of the angel as his consciousness brushed past her mind.

Thank you.

Then he was gone - and her free will was back. 

She sat up slowly, elegantly, and stretched, running her hand slowly over her face and body, relishing the feeling that she was finally back in control.

Alyssa didn't say anything - not because she couldn't, but because she didn't know what to say. A year of not being able to say what was on your mind when you wanted to was.. She really didn't know how to describe it. Restricting would putting it mildly. 

So she decided not to say anything yet. 

Instead, she glanced to the side of her, and watched the sleeping figure that was stretched out, his pale hair gleaming in the moonlight, his chest moving up and down slowly. His eyes were loosely closed, his arms askew. 

He looked more beautiful than ever before. 

She allowed herself one smile before she swung her leg over him, while she took hold of his arms. He jerked awake, his eyes flying wide open, the dark green softening, as his face went through of a series of expressions before settling on the most radiant smile that she had ever seen. 

But even as his mouth opened to speak, she was bending down to kiss him, cutting off the sound as their lips touched for the first time in a year. 

It was as if it were their first kiss. 

Jonathon tasted - honey, sugar, and a thousand spices, the smell of pine, sandalwood and flowers filling the air. His hands moved without thought, as did hers, the two of them taking each in all over again, hoping that they remembered the feeling of the other well enough. 

It rapidly became clear the elapsed time had done absolutely nothing to dull their feelings for each other, or allowed them to forget each other in the slightest. 

Their lips never parted, the pent up need of the time expressing itself in onslaught of uncontrolled passion, half love, half lust, the two mingling together flawlessly, Alyssa and Jonathon joining with a swiftness born of uncontrollable need. 

Jonathon actually growled into her mouth as they connected, as did Alyssa, while she began to move slowly, effortlessly, all the while still kissing him, as if they could drink each other in, as if it were impossible for them to be apart again.

The world became a tunnel, with two of them at either end, only able to see, sense and feel each other. They didn't even notice when they rolled over so that Jonathon was on top, and when Alyssa fingers dug into him deep enough to draw a few beads of blood. 

They were finally together again. Truly together. And that was all that they cared about. 

The climax was the best either of them had ever had, their bodies seemingly trying to fuse as it happened, the two of them having their breath completely stolen, as the endorphins that rushed through them, nearly made them black out with pleasure. Jonathon had just enough mind to move before all the strength left his body, and he collapsed next to his girlfriend, completely spent. 

Neither of them managed to talk for the next few minutes, coming down from the absurd height that they'd reached. 

Finally, Alyssa spoke. 

"Thank you, Jonathon." 

"For what?"

"For staying with me."

"Alyssa-"

"Don't. Most people would've have abandoned me in first week, or at the latest, the first month. But you were here for the entire year. You respected me, cared for me- Damn, I sound sappy, but it's true. You're freaking amazing, Jonathon Morgenstern. And you're mine."

"Alyssa, I'm to lucky one. I honestly never thought I'd find someone who would understand me, let alone love me. And then I run into you, and get the two in one."

"I guess we're both lucky then."

"Mmm," he murmured, fighting the urge to go back to sleep - until her hand slid across his chest, drumming an irregular pattern over his abdomen. 

"Don't you even think about going to sleep. We're not sleeping anymore tonight."

"Is that an order?"

"One that I'm sure that you're happy to follow."

"Certainly," he replied, as he placed his hand on her, truly happy again for the first time in a what had seemed to be forever.


	58. A Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this - and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I don't know when or what my next project will be, but I hope that if it is of interest to you, you'll enjoy it as much as I do. Once again, thank you, and have a good day wherever you are.

Nate touched down in airport in Brussels, trying to control the massive smile on his face. 

It had been a while since he had received the an email from Alyssa saying that she was back to normal. He had been busy sorting out his university place, and there had been the holiday the family that his family had been planning for the past year - and amongst all that, there had been absolutely no time for him to actually come out and see them. 

It was early December now, and he had finished university. His friends had been kind enough to send him a ticket, just to ensure that he was able to make it. Nate had told his parents that he was going to spend some time with some university friends over Christmas. They had initially protested, (although they couldn't stop him from going), but had eventually come around to the idea. 

He exited the airport, where he found someone waiting for him with one of those cardboard signs, just like in the films. Almost laughing, he followed him to the car with his luggage, before being driven away.

Nate watched the scenery as it rolled by the window, the landscape seemingly magical, frozen and shaped by the grip of the ice and snow. It was all really lovely - but not what he came here to see. 

And then he saw him standing by the side of the road. 

Blonde as ever, his dark green eyes shining with even more life than they done so back in London. 

And the brilliant smile that crossed his face was truly a sight to behold. 

He felt his own growing as he stepped out of the car, taking his bag, while the driver drove away, shaking his head, muttering something about crazy foreigners that paid to be left in the middle of nowhere.

He gripped his friend in a bear hug, and the two of them rocked from side to side, laughing. 

"It's so good to see you."

"You too, Nate. You too. It's been too long."

"I'd gotten away sooner, but you know..."

"Natural Sciences at Cambridge. I couldn't be prouder if I were your parents."

"They were pretty happy themselves."

"Seriously though. Well done."

"Thanks. And thank you for saving the world."

Jonathon laughed. "Can we stop with this? Remember, the world had to be saved from me once."

"Yeah. But then you saved the world. So I'd say the scales are about even now."

"I suppose. But come on, let's get you out of the cold."

They walked together towards the house - and Jonathon placed his hand on the door, and it simply swung open now, the spell altered to recognise both him and Alyssa, and now Nate.

He put down his bag, and looked around at the opulence and grandeur of the house. 

"Very nice."

"Not my taste. But it comes with being a Morgenstern."

Before he could ask his next question, the other voice he had been so desperate to hear called out to him. 

"Nate!"

He spun around - and gasped, completely stunned, utterly surprised by what he saw.

"What- What-"

She smiled at him coyly. "Come on, Nate. What do you say?"

"Ummm... Congratulations?"

"Oh, he's definitely going to be their godfather."

............................................................................................

Jonathon couldn't help but remember his friend's face when he had first seen Alyssa's growing stomach. It had been surprise - and then radiant gladness, and a genuine pleasure that so few people had for anyone but themselves. 

"When?" he repeated, as they sat around on the sofas, sipping hot chocolate so deliciously thick and sweet, that it should've been reserved for a deity. "Well, the night when we got Alyssa back, I think."

"Definitely that night. The last thing we were thinking about was protection," she laughed. "We were just so happy to be back together - I don't know how many times. Well into the afternoon."

"And then you noticed a month later," Jonathon continued.

"Faeries are very attuned to their bodies. I knew something was different, but even so I just put it down to my recent restoration to my former self. But when it persisted, I sat and meditated - and found that there was another life form inside me. "

"Life forms."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "What are you having? Twins?"

Jonathon snorted. "That would be far too easy." He held up fingers to indicate how many.

"Quadruplets?" Nate burst out laughing. "You two never do anything by half measures. Accidently pregnant with quadruplets? It sounds like a film - except this is stranger than any film!"

"Fact is stranger than fiction. Well, reality. But you catch my drift."

"Yeah, I do," Nate finished, mirth still present in his voice. "But you two don't seem to be too bothered about it."

"We've had a while to get used to the idea," Alyssa said, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "We weren't calm at all when we found out."

"The fact that I'm the father is a problem."

"Why- Oh. Your heritage."

"Part demon, part angel."

"And that's not including the fact the faeries are the descendants of angels and demons," Nate mused aloud. 

"We have no idea what they're going to be capable of - or even what or who they'll look like. But that's not even the main problem."

"Then what is?"

"Jonathon and I. As parents. Take a minute and let that sink in."

"Oh." 

"Exactly. Two warriors who are most at home when they're in a fight, and have been fighting for most of their lives. One of whom is decades old-

"-and the other who's has to remain out of sight and out of mind, because the entire Shadow World would hunt him down if they knew he was alive."

"Not to mention the fact that we know nothing about children."

"I've never even held a child. Not once. They would cry whenever I passed them by."

"I can't remember what happened the last time I held a child. All I know is that it wasn't good. For me, or for the child." 

"Oh, grow up you two," Nate interjected. "Nobody really knows what they're doing when it comes to parenthood. People write books, give lectures, write theses on the subject. But there is no one correct way to raise a child. You just do your best, and hope it goes well."

They didn't look convinced, and Nate rolled his eyes. 

"Come on, guys. Jon, are you going to raise them like your father raised you?"

The look on Jonathon's face was so dark that Nate was almost sorry he had suggested. Almost. 

"No? And are you going to raise force your children to act as if their cadets at the Knight's Glade?"

"No."

"Then that's a good start. Look, it's not going to perfect, but both of you are intelligent, good people. You'll make it work. It's not going to be easy, and not all of it will be fun. Then again, when is anything ever?"

"You do have a point," Jonathon conceded. "There's just so much to think about."

"Well, at least you don't have the problem of money, like most families do. Or locations where you can live."

"What would we ever do without you?" Alyssa asked, half seriously, half sarcastically.

"Save the world, and then worry about raising your children badly - and have no-one to tell you to stop being stupid."

Jonathon reached out and took Alyssa's hand, their fingers lacing together, the look that they shared so incredibly personal that Nate felt that he was almost witnessing something that wasn't supposed to be seen.

"But seriously," Alyssa asked, turning to him. "Will you be their godfather? I know it's a lot to ask, especially considering-"

"Sure. I would love to be." He paused for a moment. "Wait. I'm going to be godfather to demon-angel-faerie children."

"Yep," Jonathon confirmed.

"Well, at least this will be interesting."

"Especially when they can beat you up by the time they're seven."

"You're teaching them how to fight?"

"The Shadow Races hate me, and the Seelie Queen has it in for both of us, as does Lilith when she eventually reforms. More importantly, they can't hide from the Shadow World forever. They'll discover it sometime - and they'll have to be prepared for it."

Nate nodded slowly. "Well then, it's a must. They need one normal figure in their lives don't they, even if they only see me on the odd occasion."

"Exactl- Wait, what do you mean one normal figure?" Alyssa replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, the two of you aren't exactly what you call run of the mill?"

"We have our issues, but we're pretty much ordinary," Jonathon said mockingly.

"Issues? That's putting it mildly. Very mildly."

The conversation continued long into the night, and even until the next morning at breakfast, as the friends laughed, joked and chatted as if they had never been apart. 

The few weeks they spent together were wonderful, and when they parted , promising to see each other soon, each of them were significantly happier than they had been before.

It was perfect.

....................................................................................................

Almost perfect.

Unbeknownst to them, far beyond the reach of most mortals, sat a woman. Her skin was healing, and although parts of it were still charred and blistered, she was clearly very beautiful. 

She went over to the bed that lay in the corner, and picked up a cup full of a liquid that no-one wanted identify, that sat on the small table by the bed. 

The liquid trickled down the throat of the massive figure that lay there, his brittle and half destroyed wings folded by his sides. He looked so much better than he had done before. 

When the angel and unleashed his divine wrath on her, she had just been able to salvage his very essence - his mind and his soul, and a little of what classified as his DNA, while still managing to protect herself and it in the process.

Fleeing across, she had drawn from the life of the demons of Edom, and some of the other dimensions she ruled, absorbing the meagre energy and feeding it into her love, until she knew he would survive. She had shored herself up, and gone to scrounged and done everything possible to keep the two of them intact. 

When they had finally passed the critical stage, they were still both very weak - and so she took her time, slowly restoring herself and him at the same time. He had only spoken to her a few days before, and had simply managed to whisper a single word. 

"Michael."

At least his mind was still intact. 

With every infusion he grew stronger, and stronger. Brick by brick, she lay the foundation that would allow one of Heaven's most formidable opponents to rise once more. It would take years, many, many years. Maybe her son and his faerie friend would still be alive. She would like it they were. Seeing the looks of surprise on their faces would be worth all of it.

Most importantly, however, her love would walk beside her once more. 

Lilith gently looked down into the rapidly forming handsome face that belonged to Sammael.

And she smiled.

...................................................................................

The next time Nate came, it was summer.

The warm sun kissed his cheeks as he was greeted by a sight that he would never forget.

Alyssa and Jonathon stood there, waiting him, both of them holding a child in each of their arms. 

None of them looked remotely alike. Two girls and two boys. One of the girls had hair the colour of blood, and a silvery tint to her skin, with eyes that were actually black, while her sister looked more human - except for the fact that her hair was Jonathon's colour except a few shades lighter, and her eyes such a vibrant, regal purple that it was surprising. One of the boys had Alyssa's skin and hair, and Jonathon's old, lighter green eyes, while the other had silver blue hair and dichromatic eyes - Alyssa's sliver, one a dark blue. 

All of them had slighted pointed ears, and features that were a perfect blend of Alyssa's and Jonathon's - and all of them were large for their age, and unusually alert, looking at him intently as he approached.

Jonathon and Alyssa came towards him without saying a word, and handed him the boy with the silver blue hair, and the girl with the purple eyes - both of whom watched him intently.

He looked back at them, as they tilled their heads from side to side, looking at him curiosity - before they smiled at him, and the boy patted his cheek, while the girl inspected his braids. 

He smiled at his friends, who smiled back at him, and all of seven of them went back towards the house together, happy and at peace for the foreseeable future. 

Jonathon looked back at all of them - and marvelled at how fortunate he was. 

Considering all that had happened to him in both his first life and his second, he wouldn't have changed a moment of it. 

This was his second take at life - and no matter what occurred, he was going to best to enjoy every second of it.

Whoever said you only live once?


End file.
